


The Seventeenth

by Xazz



Series: Flocking Movement [4]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, End of the World, Epic, F/M, Gen, Genocide, Immortal, Key, M/M, Mass Destruction, Mystery, Original Characters - Freeform, Rebellion, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Those Who Came Before - Freeform, alternate time line, code, enslavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 55
Words: 124,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world. Humanity is all but destroyed and Those Who Came Before are on the rise without a hope in sight for the human race as their slowly killed off for sport. There was supposed to be a hero, someone who was supposed to set everything right. No one's seen him in a long time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yolk

**Author's Note:**

> when I say major character death, I mean everyone dies... multiple times
> 
> fucking immortals

There was a great darkness. Darkness into everything. He could not see. He could not hear. He could not feel. He could not think. It was like he was sleeping. Sleeping and drowning and falling and floating and dying and all around him there was only the darkness that he could not know. The great yawning void of the world. The impregnable silence of God, whatever that was, seeping into his skin through his pores, smothering him like a child. He knew nothing. He _was_ nothing. He could _be_ nothing. It swallowed and ate him and rolled him around in it’s black mouth and sometimes he was sure he cried. Cried and screamed and wept. But he could not remember these things, for he could not remember at all, anything, ever. Yet he knew so much, if someone would jus _ask him_ , he could tell them.

But no one ever did.

He was alone, in the darkness. The thing that drove him mad and was a comfort like nothing he’d known. Because it wanted nothing from him. It did not need, it did not demand, it did not trick, and it did not lie.

He was at peace.

  Sometimes he thought he heard whispers. Voices echoing out from the darkness. Sometimes he thought he heard his brother, and in those moments he’d find some sort of clarity. 

He could remember. 

Nothing important. Like where or who he was or what he was or what had happened. But he could remember stories. So many stories. His brother had loved stories. Stories about a man without a name, or a face who lurked in shadows, untouched by the sun and climbed trees like smoke and could walk on water. He was always in his brother’s stories, and his brother called him… called him. Not a name. For he had no name. But even the nameless were _something_ but he couldn’t remember now. His brother’s voice drifted away into the darkness. There had never been a voice, it had been a trick of his mind. He was still alone. There had never been anyone there. There never was. There was only himself. And with the voices his mind went as well.

He couldn’t remember anything now. 

He could never remember anything.

Other times he saw shapes in the void. Flashes of the brightest blue and palest yellow. At the very edge of his sight, almost out of reach for him to actually see properly. For some reason that made him hurt, but he wasn’t sure how or why. It just was, as it always was. He was nothing, he only was, and in those times there was pain. Not a physical one, but one that was like being stabbed in the gut and made him weak and desperate. But he didn’t know why. He couldn’t remember.

Of course he couldn’t remember.

—

There were voices. Yes. Voices. Not the pretend things he thought he heard. They were real. These _had_ to be real. Right? Yes, of course they were real. He heard them at a great distance, like someone was speaking to him through a tube, or one of those cup phones he’d seen children on television use but never actually made himself. They didn’t have those sorts of things on the Farm.

The Farm…

He could remember the Farm. His father. Hard, distant, worried about something that never happened, never came. His mother. She hated him, wanted nothing to do with him and blamed him for everything bad in her life. His brother. The only one who loved him, his _ahk_ , and the sight of his lifeless eyes staring back at him when he was eight years old.

The voices outside grew louder, but no more distinct. Like they were yelling. For a moment he thought they sounded panicked…

He knew panic. The rush of looking down from an impossibly tall building and seeing a tiny yellow or floral square you had to hit, or you’d die. You’d be a smear on the ground. The flutter of his heart as he sat or stood in a small crowd, trying to steady his breathing, watching from under his hood as guards ran past, praying they didn’t see him. Knowing if they did he was too weak to fight.

That was panic, that was fear. But they were emotions he could hold to. Ones he knew.

Then the voices faded. He forgot. He’d imagined them again. There was only darkness again and he welcomed it, because it was easier to just stay in the dark then have to deal with the world. Here it was safe. Here nothing bad could happen to him, no one wanted anything from him.

Here, he didn’t have to remember what he’d done and how he’d failed _everyone_.

—

It was a low hum, something he didn’t notice at first. But it was different, a noise he’d never heard before. Or, if he had, he couldn’t remember. It made him twitch and all at once he was aware of a body. A body and a mind and that he was _something_ , was _someone_. 

The hum became a drone. Constant, like the sound of a million cicadas buzzing in the night, and it was getting _louder_. Above, because now there was an above, as now he had a head and feet and _above_ was over his head, there was a hiss. A mechanical hiss like… like air pressure being released from a tank. A loud hissing that drowned out the hum.

His eyes opened. It felt like for the first time. He couldn’t see. It was all suddenly so bright. _Too_ bright. He squinted but even then it was hard to see. Shapes moved above him, flashes of white and brown against darkness around him. He closed his eyes for a long time.

The hissing stopped, the droning continued, and he could hear voices again. But they were distant, like before. Because there _was_ a before. There was always a before and now he could remember before. He might have screamed and the voices grew louder, panicked again. He didn’t hear himself though, he couldn’t be sure. Wasn’t that jus _so_ like it though. He was never sure of anything, _ever_. Even when he thought he knew he didn’t, he was just a stupid kid who was playing at things bigger then him. 

He was a pawn, easily sacrificed, often to gain a better position, all he could do was move forward and get captured. That was the point of a pawn, to distract and to move forward, only attacking when others got into just the right position. He was nothing.

And yet.

He didn’t _feel_ like a pawn. A pawn you let die. He wasn’t dead though. A pawn could move forward and become the strongest piece on the board. A pawn could become a queen, and players were always wary of a queen. They could move any direction and all across the board. They had power and they owned the board because they could go anywhere, and capture anyone.

He closed his eyes again to the sound of the hissing and the droning silence and the distant voices. It felt like he slept.

—

The light was bright and even through his eyelids he felt blinded. He could feel, everything. He could remember, everything. He could think, he could hear, he could breathe and he felt sick. Above him, a different sort of above then his head, this was above his body, he could hear people talking. They weren’t distant now, but he still couldn’t hear them, like he was listening through a wall.

He was laying down on something curved and warm and even though he was breathing he didn’t know how, it didn’t _feel_ like he was breathing. His skin was damp and his hair soaked and he was naked as the day he was born. Funny. It sort of felt like that all over again.

He made himself open his eyes, even though he didn’t want to. He cried out, he definitely did, he could hear it, and all at once all the light faded to something manageable. Somehow he knew that it was near pitch blackness. But to him everything was so bright. So bright and gray and pale and everything was so brilliant and the shapes in front of him were blue and black in the darkness above him. Everything became more real then and the weight of everything, just _everything_ , pressed down on his like he was suffocating, even though he was still breathing.

Something hissed, a shorter hiss, pressure being released and something above him moved, though he couldn’t see what. His eyes followed something that was invisible as it arced across his face and he was reminded of the Animus. The first Animus, the first time he’d woken up in that machine and seen Vidic, seen Lucy.

A pair of hands reached down to him, they were big and hard and they said something, he couldn’t understand though. He coughed when they pulled at something on his face and he suddenly felt like he was choking was a long plastic tube was pulled up and out of his throat. One for his lungs, the other for his stomach. Then they were gone and he gasped, breathing on his own for the first time in what he knew, somehow, had been a _very_ long time. Small tabs were tugged off his body and now he felt cold. He was so cold and shivered in the open air.

“Ready?” the voice came out of nowhere, somewhere away and above him.

“Give me a second. Bastards got him good,” this one was right above him, loud, familiar, comforting.

“We have to go _now_.”

“You want me to drag half this shit around with me? Shut up and let me finish,” and then the last tag was ripped off his body and two strong arms reached down and scooped him up under the knees and back and lifted him up. He hung limp in those arms, not even knowing how to move his head, and could only move his eyes. “Got him.”

“Then lets go, we can’t block them out forever and the Big Eagle’s getting tired.”

“I’m coming-

“Wait wait,” this was a different voice, it sounded strange. “For god’s sake he’s going to freeze like this you idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Yes you are now shut up and listen to your betters.”

“I will once he shows up,” they growled.

“Here,” and someone was manipulating his limp limbs and wrapped something around him. A blanket? It had sleeves though, so a coat maybe. He was still shivering but they wrapped him in the thing that was a blanket and a coat and he felt better.

“What about you?”

“I’ll live.”

“Yes, you will,” his carrier said gravely. “We’re ready.”

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d never say that. Someone go get the Big Eagle,” and then they were moving, he tried to look around, tried to see who was holding him. But it was hard, he couldn’t move his head, and even in the darkness that didn’t hurt his eyes he couldn’t see beyond shapes. “Okay?”

“Do it,” his carrier said. “Close your eyes Desmond.” Oh right, _he_ was Desmond. He closed his eyes. There was an unreal brightness that made him light headed and whimper in pain. Someone put something over his face, to further shield his light sensitive eyes. Behind them something boomed, like the cracking of stone and then it sounded like things falling, an avalanche and wind rushed past them, an icy wind that made him shiver harder and want to press into the person carrying him, but he couldn’t control his limbs, he was too weak. It was freezing now, and light trickled in under the crease of what was over his face. 

He shivered and they were moving again, into the wind and goosbumps rose up on his legs, starting on his bare feet and soon covered his entire body and he trembled, he was so cold. So cold. He wished he was back wherever he had been, where it was warm and he was safe, not like here where it was cold and terrifying and he was scared.

“Is he okay?” someone suddenly asked, someone new who he hadn’t heard before now. They sounded winded.

“Yes, as okay as he can be,” and he made his head move, though he only could get it to move a little, to follow the voices around him. The icy wind tugged at him, curling around the cover over his face which was like a blindfold and a hood all at once.

“We need to get him out of the cold. And you, where’s your coat?” they weren’t speaking to who was carrying him anymore.

“I gave it to him. Less you would have rather him out in this place naked.”

“And what are you going to do for a coat?”

“I thought we could share.”

“…Well at least one of you is smart.”

“That’s why you keep me around.”

“Mostly-

“Oh my fuck will you both _stop flirting_ I’m about to be sick.”

“If we were doing that one of us would have a black eye-

“Or a fat lip-

“Well you _have_ one of those-

“Shut up! Great fuck I’m killing both of you and burying you in a shark cage or something.” The two who had been talking laughed. Then they stopped, and they stopped moving too. “Shit.”

“Out of the way.”

“Be careful.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? They kill me?” and they laughed, though there was a strange mirth in their laugh and then the sound of someone running away. They were moving again and it was getting colder and he couldn’t stop shaking. At least it was darker now, but the wind was stronger and his feet hurt, they were so cold and it was painful to breathe. He wanted it to end.

Then they stopped and he was put down in a seat, leather. The back seat of a car. The one carrying him touched his face, turning his head. “Can you talk?”

He made himself do so, but his voice came out weak, thin, and raspy, like he hadn’t used it in a long time. “Ezio?”

“Yeah,” and he felt lips pressed to his temple and the immortal stroked the top of his head gently, “You’re safe now. You’re safe,” and then Ezio buckled him in before pulling away. The car door was slammed shut and the heater was cranked up on high. The car idled for another moment, then it started to move and wherever they had been he knew was getting farther away.


	2. The Aviary

Relearning to walk was probably the hardest and most humiliating thing Desmond had ever had to do. He’d never been so helpless in his life then when he had to relearn how to walk, relearn how to speak. He knew how to do it, but it had been _so long_. Sometimes his limbs still felt heavy, useless, and thin from what had happened to him. But that had been then. This was now. Now he could walk. He could run. And he could fight. He still didn’t talk much though. It was like being stuck in the Animus, only worse. His body had been weak when he’d finally come out of the Animus the last time, but he could still walk, he could still run and talk and fight. He hadn’t been able to do any of those things this time.

He stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back, haunted, and tired. The light was off in the bathroom and the tile cold under his feet, a towel had been put down by the edge of the tub as a sort of rug. A bit of light trickled in from under the door and it was light enough to see by. It was for him, though no normal human should have been able to see, not as clearly as he did.

Desmond had stopped thinking himself as anything ‘normal’ a long time ago.

He looked away from himself and grabbed the bar of soap, lathering his face up, and picked up the razor. Really it was a knife, but they didn’t have room for unitask objects like razor blades. Desmond was better with a knife anyway. He set it to the proper edge and shaved off the few days worth of growth on his cheeks and neck. His face couldn’t really support facial hair, it made him look like a hobo. The others could pull it off, somehow, but Desmond couldn’t. 

The sound of the knife scraping against his skin and the repetitive nature of his task made him lose a bit of focus, but never enough so that the knife would nick his neck. Huh. How easy that would be. He wondered if it had been seemingly that easy for Duncan. Then he dragged the knife on the side of the sink on it’s flat side, ridding it of soap and hair.

They’d been here, somewhere in the middle of fucking Russia, for a few months. When they’d arrived it’d been the end of spring, and spring was cold in Russia. Well, once, it had been called Russia. Since the Ancients had awaken everything had just gone straight to hell in a hand basket. 

Politically there were no more national lines, not with the state of the world what it was. It had taken the Ancients, who called themselves the proeathans, a year to regain some of their old bases, temples, and epicenters. Two years and they’d leveled most of the major cities to the ground and had humanity mostly under their thumbs. Three years and they’d induced a mini ice age. Four years and everything north of the Great Lakes in America and south of Bolivia was covered in ice eight months out of the year, more or less. Not real ice at least, but just snow. A lot of snow. Five years, now, they’d reasserted their dominance on the Earth and while there were of course still resistance, as humans didn’t like being told what to do, there wasn’t much they could do in the wake of proeathans with their amazing technology.

The knife scraped against the sink and he tapped it and ran it under water to get the last of the soap off it.

Desmond had been away for five years. Five long, black, warm, years. Ezio had told him that they moved him every few months to some new facility, because the proeathans knew they were looking for him. They always seemed to move him just before they were getting ready. But they’d caught a lucky break a few months ago. Now they were here, in what had once been the middle of Russia, it was September and there was frost on the ground already. It would start snowing soon they said.

The proeathans were keeping him, for something. No one knew what. He couldn’t remember much of the Temple in New York five years ago. He could remember Pluto though, Pluto and that _fucking_ light that signaled control and had forced him to his knees. He remembered telling Pluto, ‘I’m going to kill _all of you_ ,’ and the brief look of unease on his face before he blacked out.

He tapped the knife on the sink after rinsing it and put it down before splashing his face with water to get the last bits of soap off. His reflection stared back at him with wide, serious, dark eyes from over the towel when he dried his face. He put it down and picked up a pair of scissors on the side of the sink and pulled his hair back. It was long now. It’d been around his ears five years ago and been acceptable, now it was at his shoulders and driving him nuts. He put it in a tight pony tail and cut it off just above the elastic.

Someone knocked on the door, “Done in there yet?” Jake called.

“Cutting my hair,” he called back.

“You’re cutting your hair in the dark Einstein,” Jake huffed.

Desmond didn’t answer Jake, he could see, even in the dim light, he was used to the dark, and he could even see in color. Jake left as he started to cut away the rest of his hair in great chunks until it was short. Highly misshapen and erratic, but short. He put the scissors down and picked up the buzz cutter. One of the few unitaskers they had, and pretty much required since Altair kept his head nearly bald, and Jake had an attachment for a bit longer then that. Desmond didn’t bother with the attachment and just shaved what remained of his hair. He’d gone bald (or nearly at least) a few times in his life. He sort of had an egg head though and needed at least _some_ hair on his head or he’d look weird.

Once he’d finished he ran his hand over the buzz, then he cleaned up all the hair in the sink, throwing it into the little bin next to it. He opened the door to Jake standing on the other side of the narrow hallway, arms folded, leaning against the wall. “Took you long enough.”

“I told you I was cutting my hair,” Desmond said blandly.

Jake rolled his eyes, “Yeah well get. I need to use the bathroom and don’t fancy going outside in this weather.”

“What weather?”

“It’s snowing,” and he pushed past Desmond and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him leaving Desmond in the dark hall. After a moment he walked down it to the living room. There a fire was going in the big fire place and he could smell something being cooked from the kitchen. The cabin they were in wasn’t too big, but big enough. There were two bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room that doubled as a dining room. Next to it was a stable where there was a cow, two goats (a nanny and a billy), and a few chickens. Desmond didn’t know _where_ they’d gotten the animals, but he didn’t ask either because it was probably just in his best interest if he _didn’t_ ask.

The living room was warm and cozy, the walls stone with wooden furniture. Apparently it was one of Altair’s homes before the entire mess had happened. He didn’t ask why Altair had a house in Russia, especially one out in the middle of fucking _no where_. Really it was obvious. Altair didn’t like people. Not normally. He was old, he found them tedious, boring, and more then a little infuriating. Ezio told him Altair had houses like these all over the world. Places where he could go and be totally isolated from humanity. Ezio had a few, but he was much more of a social creature then Altair and thrived around other people. Hawk only had his island in the Indian Ocean, and that was about as remote as you could get really.

He went and sat on one of the couches, facing a window. There were flurries blowing across the window and he frowned. “It’s September,” Desmond said, it should still be summer, even here in Russia, especially as it was southern Russia.

Hawk, who was sitting at the table spoke up, “This is normal,” he declared. “North of here starts seeing actual snow fall by late September, only around the tropics don’t see snow at all, and even then they’ll get frost on the ground during the coldest months.”

“Insane,” Desmond declared.

“The proeathans messed everything up,” was Hawk’s reply. “We’ve been over this.”

They had. The Ancients ran at a higher body temperature than humans, about five degrees actually, which was seriously significant. As it was Desmond had always run a bit warmer, about ninety-nine point eight on average, but the proeathans literally felt like they were constantly running a fever to humans. Burning from the inside out. They were sort of like stars. They burned brighter and hotter, blazing in all their glory, and then they’d collapsed. Seemingly they’d come back as white dwarves, or black holes though because they were destructive and dangerous to everything that wasn’t like them.

They’d thrived in the cold weather of the first major ice age that had seen the rise of mammals. They were primates, like humans, but had evolved through a glitch in evolution, seemingly leaping forward millions of years of evolution beyond the normal human race. They were making tools and starting to create spoken language when Australopithecus was still around and one of the most famous early ‘human-like’ creatures was thought to have lived: Lucy. Everything about them was more advanced and special and they’d had a lot more time to evolve into _more_. Clearly they had and one could only imagine that one day humans would become like them as they shared enough DNA to interbreed (obviously, or Desmond’s wouldn’t exist). The proeathans were so human, and humans were so proeathan, except for this small thing that gave them a sixth sense, and of course the raised body temperature.

The only reason they knew _any_ of this was because of Clay. Apparently he’d spent months going in and out of a meditative state and searching through his oldest memories for useful information, like this. Desmond didn’t even want to begin to think about what that was like, falling that far back into your genetic code. At least he was okay, and hadn’t gone mad (again) or killed himself.

A rush of cold wind blew into the cabin when the door opened as Altair came inside, a bit of snow dusting his shoulders and hat. He closed the door before looking in, “You cut your hair,” Altair noted.

“You did?” and Desmond looked at Hawk who’d finally looked up. Hawk’s hair was long now, past his shoulders, and curly as could be at that length. He kept it in a tail on the nape of his neck, the end of it curled in a corkscrew from him twirling it around his finger while he worked. “The hell? You look like the Big Eagle. Great now we have _two_ baldies.”

“Baldies?” Ezio stuck his head out of the kitchen. His hair was short, but not too short, long enough to style, and he kept it pushed back, and wore a real beard on top of that. He was the only one who could really pull it off. Well Altair could too, but Altair with facial hair just made him look old, Ezio could pull it off and not look like your grandfather. “Q-balls!” he cried, laughed and then ducked back into the kitchen when Altair shot him a look.


	3. Midair

Altair sank into the couch next to him as he tugged off his knitted cap and reached up to rub Desmond's head. "You look like an adult for once," he teased, Desmond smirked at him a little but didn't answer him.

"Good job Big Eagle," Hawk drawled from the table. "Kid's got your  _amazing_  social skills along with your shitty hair cut."

"My hair cut is  _fine_ , thank you very much brat," Altair said back. Then he turned back to Desmond, "You okay?"

Desmond gave him an annoyed, stony, look. His ancestors always asked him that. Was he 'okay'? No he wasn't fucking okay. He'd made  _all_  this happen. This fucking ice age, his entire species being turned back into slaves and pack mules for the most part. This was  _all his fault_. He wouldn't be 'okay' for a long ass time, if he ever was again ever.

Not for the first time, even just briefly, he thought about what Pluto had offered him. 'Let us make you happy', he'd said. That sounded  _really_  good right now.

He said none of this and just shrugged and slid down into the couch, looking at the fire crackling away in the hearth. He stayed there, only glancing up once when Jake came out of the bathroom and Altair asked him to help him with the chickens, and they left, the wind shockingly cold against Desmond's warm skin before the door was closed again with a thud. Hawk continued to fiddle with this or that on the table and his screen of a computer that even to Desmond's untrained eyes had gone through some serious upgrades. Now it was impossible to even see what was on it unless you were in Eagle Vision and because of the sensitive nature of the information in it (it was one of the last computers hooked up to the internet after all) every few hours required a blood sample to be taken to keep running, just a drop would do. Needless to say it only worked with Hawk's blood. He thought it was cool, sort of.

From the kitchen the smell of good food just increased. It was rabbit for dinner. He and Jake had gone out earlier that day and caught three, skinned them and separated out all the parts during the warmest parts of the day. This wasn't like the last time they'd been hiding. Before there had been things like modern connivence. Now all they had was a solar powered generator (everything Hawk touched was solar powered, or wind powered, he was a serious fan of renewable energy) that was on for a few hours every day to charge up some of the small things around the cabin. Like the buzz trimmer, or the radio, Hawk's computer. Stuff like that. Hawk was still trying to harness the power of the Cube, but without Desmond around to dampen it's power output it was pretty much impossible to handle safely.

Before his training had just been how to fight, how to stay safe in case they were separated. The world wasn't what it was though, not any more. Now it wasn't just about how to defend yourself, it was about learning to survive. Apparently a quarter of the world's population had just starved to death during the first long winter, they didn't know how to cope. Those who did survived, but many in the world were fat and complacent and didn't know how to fend for themselves. And that was what remained of the population after the proeathans asserted their dominance and started putting them to work in god knew what. Factories and plantations probably. Just like before.

No, now. Now he had to know how to  _really_  live on his own. His previous training helped a great deal with that and hunting was no problem at all. In fact it was seriously invigorating.

Desmond had a problem he didn't like to admit he had. He liked to hunt, he liked to  _fight_. If his brother was a pacifist, he was a warmonger. Even before he'd been strapped into the Animus he just… liked it. He liked fighting and getting hurt and hurting people in like. It wasn't like a weird… psychotic thing, he didn't go out of his way to torture small animals or have fantasies of killing someone or anything. He was just  _good_   _at it_ , and he wanted to  _keep_  being good at it. He'd always thought that was sort of weird, because he was so much like Duncan, except he wanted to learn to fight. He'd just wanted to be like his brother then, because at the Farm people who fought only did so to hurt others. He'd since learned that you didn't have to hurt people if you wanted to fight, you could use it to help too and now, around his ancestors, he saw that, really, Duncan had been the black sheep. Desmond was too, well, sort of, he was less of a black sheep and more of an entirely different animal amid the flock. Like he was a goat to his brother's black sheep, or even his ancestors' normal fucking white sheep. The same, sort of, but different.

He just… tried not to think about it really. He tried not to think of  _a lot_  of stuff actually. Training, fighting, hunting, it took his mind off it. He was in sync with his body in ways he never had been before, especially now. He liked it, because it was distracting and freeing and like he was flying.

Before he could start thinking too much Ezio announced it was time for dinner. "Go get those two idiots from the stable," he told Desmond and Desmond didn't even get a chance to nod before Ezio turned away to get dinner.

He levered himself off the couch and shoved his feet into his set of boots by the door and pulled on a not too thick coat before going outside. It wasn't quite snowing, and none of it was sticking, but there were flurries. The cold wind wrapped around his face, reddening his cheeks and made his breath come out as a cloud. Above the sky was the uniform color of slate and other then the tree line about ten feet away there was no real horizon. He turned left and walked along the edge of the house to the stable where he pushed the door open. "Altair," he called, "Jake. Ezio says it's time to eat!"

He didn't get a reply. With a big sigh he went into the warm wooden structure. The cow blinked at him with her big black eyes. She was a good cow. The goats 'baaa'ed at him as he walked past their pen, there were two left now, they'd had three. She'd been pretty tasty. They'd had a pig, earlier, but it had been big even when Desmond had shown up, being born the previous spring. They'd butchered it on the summer equinox and were still eating some of it. At the least he hadn't known you could eat brains until Ezio had served it up one day for dinner without telling anyone, in a thick cream sauce courtesy of their cow and Altair and Ezio had been the only ones to keep eating it even after Ezio had told them what it was. But then Altair would literally eat  _anything_  so it wasn't really surprising.

"Guys," he called again moodily because he was hungry. He could hear the chickens, so they'd been brought inside from the pen. Where the hell were Altair and Jake then?

With a sigh he leaned on the top of the chicken wire pen at the end of the stable where the chickens were. They'd started with a dozen and were now down to four. They were pretty fucking delicious too! "Hey girls," he said down to the chickens who were scratching and pecking around in their hay. "You seem two idiots in here by any chance?"

The chickens just clucked.

Of course.

"Altair! Jake! C'mon I'm hungry okay?" he ended in a sort of grumble. Then he paused and stopped breathing. The sound of the chickens faded out, as did the sounds of the goats and the cow and the world, like the Earth had momentarily stopped turning all Desmond could hear was his heart beat. His heart beat and

He ducked. There was a soft whistle of steel cutting through the air where his neck had just been and as he dropped he spun, kicking out one leg hoping to catch them by surprise. They just jumped over his foot and he rolled out of the way of their next slash.

Right into a pair of legs and shit. There was nothing for it though and he grabbed the legs, high up on the calf and dug his fingers in. They yelped as Desmond made the muscle contract into a painful charlie horse and he was able to scramble out of the way and get up to his feet in time to avoid another knife strike to the face. He leaned around it and grabbed the arm attached to it, twisting it hard, but the person attached to it spun with the arm and brought their fist up quickly. He got nailed right in the face, unable to duck fast enough.

He retaliated by dragging them down and kneeing them in the chest, and then sweeping their feet out from under them. They landed on their back but he still had to deal with the other one who'd recovered from the small leg cramp quickly and had a dagger. Oh joy. Desmond _loved_  knife fighting when  _he didn't actually have a knife_. They came at him, jabbing and slashing but his hands kept pushing the dagger away until he was up against the cow pen and he had to do something else.

That something else was grabbing the dagger wielder by the wrist and nearly breaking their wrist. He got thrown over their shoulder for the trouble and landed hard on his back. The wind rushed out of him but even slightly stunned his body moved on it's own. He tangled his legs in their ankles and pulled in opposite directions. They went down like a fucking bag of bricks so he could roll out of the way of the first one's knife being dropped down to his head. He rolled into a crouch, facing his two adversaries, and for the first time in a minute the world actually came into proper focus.

Altair was helping Jake to his feet. Jake was the dagger user, Altair had had the knife. He stared at them both, frowning. "You  _had_  to do this before dinner?" he asked.

"You fight better on an empty stomach," Altair informed him.

"I'm eating your second helping," and he let go of his fight response and straightened up into a real standing position. Altair smirked at him and started to direct Desmond out of the stables.

"Your reaction time is up. I wasn't planning on pulling that first strike," Altair said, arm slung up and across Desmond's shoulder.

"Hawk would have yelled at you," he complained and touched his face where Altair had punched him. Only now that the adrenaline was wearing off could he even feel it. It smarted like a bitch too and was right at the top of his jaw. He'd been lucky it wasn't broken.

Jake scoffed, "Hawk yells at him all the time," he said and not for the first time he was reminded that Jake was now the one who knew his ancestors the best, not him. He'd been around them for five years without Desmond, and at the least knew Hawk better then Desmond. Or he thought so anyway, Hawk wasn't a guy who gave information of himself out and about, not to Desmond, and Jake and he were still on rocky footing for what Hawk had done. No actually he took that back, Jake knew how Hawk acted, he doubted Jake  _knew_  more about Hawk then him though. "Though to be fair it's after he does something stupid," and he pushed Altair playfully.

Altair just made a face, rolling his eyes a little as he did so. The snow had picked up a bit from just flurries so a real snow was actually falling, though the flakes were fat and lazy and slow. One landed on Desmond's nose and he rubbed it as Altair opened the cabin door which belched warm out into the cold. He was happy to duck inside.


	4. Snowy Owl

It was dark out. The sun had set a while ago and the fire was still roaring in the hearth. There were vents underneath that went into the two bedrooms to keep it warm even in the middle of Russia's winter. Out in the living room Desmond was lying on the pull out bed that was normally a couch. He was only covered by a light blanket because of the heat of the fire near by. It was nice. Warm, and he couldn't sleep.

Really he wasn't that surprised. He'd had trouble sleeping ever since he came here. In the beginning he'd slept a lot, because he was thin and weak and couldn't really move on his own. But after a few weeks and gaining both healthy weight and muscle back he could stay awake longer and he just… didn't sleep. He usually was up for two days before sleeping. Nothing like Altair's week long or longer stints of sleeplessness. Really it took forty-eight hours for his body to just stop functioning and he had to sleep, which was the only time he really slept.

Outside the wind made the trees sway, not a lot, but it make the leaves rustle and the slender trunks on some of them bow. He stared at the window and then up at the ceiling. He should be tired. This was the night he usually slept. For some some reason he couldn't. His mind was too busy. It was always too busy. He'd seriously thought of asking one of the others to knock him out a few times, as the older ones could do so without actually hurting him. He didn't though. He didn't want them to know something was wrong.

They knew he wasn't okay, they had to. But they didn't know something was  _wrong_ , and he wanted to keep it that way. He usually shared a bed with Hawk, since Jake wouldn't sleep in the same room as him, as the beds were only queen, and amazingly comfortable. This place wasn't meant for five people to live in, it was Altair's escape, not some retreat of luxury. Tonight he was out on the pull out because Altair was sleeping tonight, he'd volunteered himself to sleep in the living room. He missed the quiet of the night, as while Hawk didn't snore, even his breathing sometimes kept Desmond awake because he just had trouble sleeping.

Maybe the fire was keeping him awake. Too warm? Too bright? Too loud, the wood snapping under the licking tongue of flame? He didn't know. Or maybe he just kept replaying five years ago in his head. He could remember Pluto's exact words, hear them in his head, word for word, calm, reassuring. He could see his fingers on the physical representation of what they were willing to give him for his continued cooperation.

He pressed a hand over his eyes. Lucy  _wasn't_  a bargaining chip. Fuck them. He'd rather be free and without her.

Right?

He honestly wasn't sure anymore. Because he was still hiding; still running.

Nothing has changed.

With a heavy sigh Desmond sat up, the bed creaked and protested when he put his feet down on the floor and stood. He reached for his t-shirt on the arm of the couch and pulled it on over his head so he was dressed in just his boxers and it and went over to the front door.

The air was icy and breathable outside, because inside it was hot and a bit stuffy from the fire. He closed the door behind him and took a few steps out into the cold. It was snowing still, a bit harder then earlier, but it wasn't sticking except for as frost on the ground which would vanish in the morning. He wrapped his arms around himself and held onto his upper arms, staring up at the black sky.

The snow falling from the sky looked like embers in his sight. His night vision was in color, but not like any sort of color he could explain. At first he'd thought it was like infrared, but it wasn't that at all. There was a small bit of light from the fire inside leaking out from the closed curtains. A warm light, which turned the snow orange. It was impossible of course, the light wasn't strong enough. His eyes just compensated for it seemingly. It wasn't like day vision, everything was just  _brighter_ , more saturated, with higher contrasts. It was all ultra real, painfully real, and sometimes it hurt to look at things that were too brilliant.

Luckily most things out here were uniform in shade and color, the brightest thing they had being Hawk's Apple. Ezio had tossed his into a lava flow apparently and Desmond's was lost to them. Funny. To gain the Apple he had to lose everything. When he lost the Apple he lost everything too. Nothing good came of those things and Hawk only kept his because it literally couldn't be used by anyone  _but_  him. It was useless to the proeathans.

Desmond breathed out in a huff, all of it coming out in a wispy cloud that vanished a few seconds later. From the trees an owl hooted and Desmond tried to find it in the branches. It hooted again and he took a few more steps away from the cabin, but not too far. He was cold but didn't want to go back inside and could feel snow resting on his shoulders, soaking through his t-shirt and on his shaved head. He wasn't shivering though. It was more of a relief to be so cold.

He turned around when light suddenly spilled from behind him. Normally they would have been silhouetted in the doorway, but Desmond saw who it was. "What are you doing out here?" Jake asked him and left the door way. Desmond just shrugged. "Don't give me that," he snapped, "You're out here in the fucking snow with no shoes and practically no clothes on. What  _were you thinking_?" he demanded.

Desmond stared at him for a second and then asked, realizing that he really had been thinking it, "You think it's cold enough that if I slept out here I wouldn't wake up?"

Jake's entire face went dead white. "Do I th- what is  _wrong_  with you? Why would you ask me that you idiot?" and then he was shoving Desmond towards the door. "You've obviously been outside too long, the cold's addled your brain," and then they were inside the warm embrace of the cabin. "God, look at you," Jake looked him up and down. Now he was shivering, especially in his snow damp clothes and his feet were  _freezing_. He sighed, "What am I going to do with you?" he asked.

"What were you doing?" Desmond asked, teeth chattering just a little.

"I had to pee, and saw you weren't in your bed. And then I come out here and find you standing outside in the middle of a fucking snow shower. Take off your shirt before you catch phenomia," he ordered and Desmond pulled it out and then Jake took it, tossed it towards the couch and then dragged him to the hall.

"What are-

"Obviously you can't be left on your own," he could hear the roll of Jake's eyes before he opened the door to the room he shared with Ezio. "In," he hissed softly and shoved Desmond in. It was warm in here, but not like it was outside, and dark, the curtains drawn across the window, there was a shape laying in the bed like a mushy boulder. He stumbled a little and Jake closed the door, prodding him towards the bed.

"I don't think-

"No shit you don't," Jake hissed. "You've been doing a lot of not thinking lately. So I'll do it for you. Get in bed," he ordered sternly and in the near non existent light Desmond could see his brows were furrowed and he was frowning deeply. He looked a lot like Malik like that. Desmond hesitated and the sharp look in his eyes intensified, and he did as he was told because  _nothing_  good came from that look, even if it wasn't really Malik.

Jake nudged him over and slid in next to him. He bumped up against… that wasn't Ezio. When he brushed against him they rolled over to face them and cracked their eyes open. Even in the dark he knew what color they were; amber. Bright. Bright. Amber. Jake and Altair were sharing? When the fuck did this happen? They went sharp for an instant, " _It's okay_ ," Jake said in Arabic, leaning over Desmond and put a hand on Altair's shoulder. The sharp, mindless, meanness left Altair's eyes and he looked about to fall back to sleep. He'd never seen Altair like this. Ever. It was sort of scary, more scary then when he was angry. " _Just go to sleep_ ," and Jake was speaking to the both of them, but looking at Desmond.

He slid down resting his head on Jake's pillow next to him, lying on his back. On his other side he heard the deep, even, breathes of Altair sleeping as Jake lay down as well. "Your feet are fucking cold," Jake hissed.

"No one's asking you to touch 'em," Desmond hissed right back and Jake snorted and got comfortable. After a few minutes he heard Jake fall off to sleep as well, joining Altair's long, deep, beaths.

He stared up at the ceiling, hands on his flat stomach. He drummed his fingers lightly on his belly before the lighting changed just a little. Enough for him to notice and he raised his left hand. The geometry was back, it came and went, but now it was shining pretty brightly and looked like puzzle pieces. It completely covered his fingers and hand right now, though stopped about half way up his lower arm save for a piece the size of a U.S. half dollar on the inside of his upper arm. He inspected it, trying to find some sort of hidden meaning.

His musings were cut short though when Altair shifted next to him. He lowered his arm when the sleeping ancient edged closer to his warmer body, as the room was warm, but not  _that_  warm, but now with three people in one bed it made a pretty good human radiator and Altair was a glutton for heat. Made him wonder why he had a house out here other then it was way out of the way. Apparently he was also a fucking bed hog too and wanted the space Desmond was currently occupying because he suddenly found his space crowded by his ancestor.

Either this was a new development or he'd always been like this. He actually couldn't recall Altair ever even sleeping. The times that he did he did so out of sight of the rest of them or sitting in a chair, never actually on a bed. So he just assumed this was normal and that Altair was usually an octopus in bed. Desmond didn't know how much he was complaining though since the older man happily sought his warmth and gave it back as well, as his feet  _were_  cold and Altair didn't seem to notice when he tangled up against him. As it was he had kinda been pressed up against Jake because Altair had taken up an entire half of the bed before, and now he was just kinda… sandwiched.

He fell asleep like that though, so he wasn't complaining too much apparently


	5. Guarding the Nest

The wind was quiet, nearly silent, and Desmond was crouching forward staring at a point fifty feet away. He breathed slowly, carefully and took a silent step forward. His shoes made no sound on the fallen leaves and he didn't snap any sticks. He hadn't seen a deer in weeks. They'd all headed further south since the snow had started. It was late September now, but the snow was sticking, not a lot, but it was. Soon they'd be going south too apparently, but not yet.

Slowly he reached behind him and pulled a arrow from the quiver slung across his back. Just as slowly he stood and nocked the arrow. He pulled back on the inhale. It was a modern bow, made of carbon to be light but strong. It was rather easy to pull back too, but that didn't mean anyone could use it. He stared at the buck, his arm trembling ever so slightly. He counted, on five he was going to release.

A gun shot rang through the air. He swore when the buck startled and bolted. He shoved the arrow back into his quiver and took off after it. He wasn't eating pork or rabbit again tonight he swore to god. He  _was getting this deer._  The animal hadn't even been hit and as he ran past where it'd been he looked left and right where the sound had come from. Standing on a rise, a bit away, was a man who still hadn't jumped into action to go after the animal. Desmond wasn't waiting around again though and tore his eyes away, chasing after the buck.

His feet snapped twigs and crunched leaves as he chased the fleeing animal. It jumped a log and Desmond vaulted over it. Under normal circumstances he'd never do something as stupid as chase down a deer, not one with a full rack of antlers, even if they were still covered in velvet. But these weren't normal circumstances and game was getting harder to find in the early winter.

He saw the deer slowing and he changed directions and scrambled up a tree, jumping from one to another until it had stopped, thinking it was out of danger. He sat in the tree above it, getting his breathing under control, and once he could breathe normally he pulled out an arrow and drew his bow back. He counted to five before letting go of the string. There was no gun shot to startle the deer either and it hit the animal in the chest.

Deers could scream and he thought they sounded like no other animal he'd ever heard as he jumped down from his tree. It ran but was mortally wounded and made it another hundred feet before he found it, fallen on the crunchy leaves. "I'm sorry," he said, kneeling next to it, "But you're going to help a bunch of people who could use your meat," he honestly hated killing animals, and he made it quick. He pulled out a knife and dug it into it's heart. It twitched a little before stilling. "Thank you," was all he said and closed the deer's eyes. He didn't like to see dead eyes, not a human's, not an animals.

He spun his knife in his hand before getting to work and cut open the buck's stomach. He didn't want most of the organs, though Ezio could cook every part of it. He was interested in the flesh and the fat. Hawk liked venison heart though, he'd bring that back, and the liver, because Jake and Ezio both liked liver (weirdos). The rest he'd leave with the carcass for passing carnivores.

He wiped his, now bloodied, hands on his leather pants and pulled his pack from his back, jostling his quiver a little. He unzipped the backpack and pulled out a big black garbage bag and some more plastic. He set the plastic on the ground. The meat would go there while he was separating it out, and then what he planned on keeping would go into the garbage bag. As he did this he looked around and saw plenty of young trees to make a sled out of, because no way he could get all this back to the cabin alone.

Then he heard some leaves crunch and Desmond froze. It was too big to be an animal, at least not a friendly animal. Then someone was talking to him in Russian, they sounded angry. But then Russian in general wasn't the most friendly sounding language, right up there with German actually. "I don't speak Russian!" he called, hands up, the man was behind him.

"Yu speak American?" they asked with a thick accent.

"Yes," he called, "and Italian, and Arabic."

"I no know either of dem," they said.

"Okay, English then," he swallowed and slowly turned around. Like he guessed the man had a gun. It was a shot gun actually, but not a hunting gun. He was about twenty feet away and at this range a shot would kill him and there weren't a lot of places he could go.

"Stan up, step a-way from de ahlyehn," he grunted.

"The what?" he asked.

"Dat," he pointed at the buck, "Get a-way from et."

"The deer? You want me to get away from the deer?"

"Da, now get," he motioned with his shot gun.

"Why?"

"I have de gun, and yu not," he said his English breaking a little. At least he didn't go into full Russian.

"Yeah, not happening. Catch and kill your own dinner bud."

"Why? Yu kilt it for me!" he said with a smile. Desmond's bloody hand tightened around his knife.

"You're going to want to leave, sir," Desmond said clearly, his voice leaving no room for want of an argument. "Or you'll make me do something we'll both regret."

"Nyet," he shook his head. "I hav a boy. He needs to eeat," he said very seriously.

Shit.

"Then we'll share it."

"Nyet. Yu go," he jerked his gun again, "or I vill shoot yu."

"No you won't."

"I vill."

"No you won't."

"Vy no?"

"Because I'll kill you first," Ezio suddenly growled from behind him and the man spun, his gun going off, discharging into Ezio's chest. The man yelled and fell back, Desmond leapt forward, ignoring Ezio for the man who he quickly disarmed and threw to the ground spinning the gun in his hands so he was aiming at the man's head. He cocked the gun and it spat out the spent cartridge, a new one slotting into the barrel.

"You just killed me friend," Desmond growled. "Why shouldn't I kill you?" regardless of the fact that Ezio wouldn't  _stay_  dead. It was still the principle of the damn thing really.

"Please, I av a son," the man said, holding up both his hands.

"How old is he?"

"Siem," the man said, now afraid.

"I don't speak Russian," Desmond snapped. "English," he barked and trained the barrel of the gun to the man's forehead. His heart was pounding, his blood singing in his ears. He wasn't afraid and he knew if he had to, he'd kill this man. It was kill or be killed out here. The cities were abandoned, the entire world had gone to shit, it was the fucking  _apocalypse_ , you didn't have time to make friends.

He'd already killed some of his own kind because they'd tried to attack him. He and Jake had been out getting fire wood from the stack around the back of the cabin. It'd been a group of them, they looked like college kids, hard college kids who spoke pretty good English. They'd wanted the house and their food. He and Jake had tried to send them on their way. They wouldn't go and had attacked them with kitchen knives. They'd defended themselves and later that day they'd all been out in the woods digging a mass grave for them.

So he knew he'd kill this man. He wouldn't like it. But he would.

"Seven," the man stumbled over his English. "Me Sasha, 'e's seven."

"Where is he?"

"'e's back at camp. Our camp. 'im, 'is maht'," wonderful, a family. Fuck. If he killed this guy he couldn't just let these guys go. They'd starve.

He looked over at Ezio, he was dead. Shit. He wouldn't wake up for at least a few days as the shot gun had blown a huge hole in his gut. "Up," he ordered, motioning with the shot gun. He didn't know what to do with this situation really. "By the tree," and he moved the man to it with the gun. He went to his bag and pulled out a length of rope and went back to the man. He unloaded the gun and threw it to the side, shoving the cartridges into the pocket of his coat, and then tied the man's wrist and fixed him to the tree, hands meeting behind his back.

Then he turned from the man and went to Ezio, closing his eyes, "I know you can't do anything about this," Desmond said softly, "But it'd be really great if you could  _hurry the fuck up_ ," he rolled his eyes. "Also, if the bug's still working," he was still speaking softly, "assistance would be great. I got a deer, Ezio's fucking dead weight, and a guy who shot him," and then he stood up and went back to his deer.

He dropped onto his knees and pulled his knife out again to finish gutting the thing. It had stopped steaming a bit by now but still felt warm on his hands. He also cut open the throat and under the pits of it's legs to let it bleed out more. He worked methodically, sectioning the meat off, putting it on the plastic and leaving parts behind. He took a lot. When he was done he rolled the animal over and went to work on the other side. The man tried to speak to him a few times, but he wasn't going anywhere, and Desmond just ignored him.

He was still working when he heard more leaves crush and he straightened where he was kneeling and looked around. "Flash," someone called, it was Jake.

"Bang," Desmond called back and went back to cleaning the animal. The ancients had all served some time in the military, usually to alleviate boredom. Especially the United States and parts of Europe as there was actual active military there. One of Ezio's favorites was the U.S. Army branch (Altair just skipped normal branches and went straight to special forces most times) and because of this all three of them had picked up new habits. They weren't really required outside of war zones, but this  _was_  a war zone. Incoming friendly would call 'flash' and if you were friendly, and if it was safe, you'd call back 'bang'. It was helpful out here and they weren't making weird bird calls at one another either.

Jake appeared a few moments later with Altair. They both took in the scene. "Nice catch," Jake said.

"Why is that man still alive?" Altair asked.

"Because he's got a wife and kid and I…" Desmond trickled off a moment before saying, "I don't take kid's fathers." Altair's face was stony, but understanding. Every kid deserved a good dad, even if his was sub par. He wouldn't kill someone's father if he couldn't help it. "Help me with this," he added and motioned to Jake who hopped over and rolled up his sleeves before, without being told, started putting the good venison on the plastic into the garbage bag. Altair went over to the man and started speaking to him in Russian.

"So Ezio?"

"Got shot point blank by a shotty," Desmond frowned and he switched out his knife for something more like a machete so he take off the legs as he'd taken the meat straight off the ribs and belly. There wasn't going to be much when he was done with it. Waste not want not and all that.

"Damn. Yeah, that is  _not_  fun."

"You get shot by one?"

"Not point blank no," he shook his head, "Still killed me though."

"How?"

"Story for another time," Jake waved him off as Desmond took both haunches though didn't care about the lower legs. He helped Jake put it in a new garbage bag. "Okay, sled?"

"Favorite part," Desmond sighed and Jake pulled out a hand axe and they went to find a few saplings. Altair was still talking to the man. Desmond downed two with his machete and de-leafed them then using around length of rope he tied them together. Jake came with his saplings and they were tied together. There was a net in Desmond's bag which was strapped to either set of saplings and then the two bags were loaded onto it.

"And sled," Jake grinned at him. "Altair," he called.

Altair turned around, "Give me his shells," he ordered, Desmond handed them over. "He can have the rest of the kill. I'll untie him once you guys get some distance and take Ezio."

"You got it," Desmond said going back to his gear. He folded the plastic up, shoved it into his bag and then shouldered it and his quiver and slotted his bow into a tube along the bottom of his pack. Then he took one side of the sled and Jake took the other and they lifted it up so that the other end dragged on the ground.

They'd walked maybe a hundred feet when Desmond said, "He's not going to let him go."

"Nope," Jake said, doing his best to appear emotionless.

"Stupid bastard," Desmond sighed, "I  _told him_  to go. Didn't listen."

"Of course not."

"What do you think'll happen to his family?" Jake didn't answer, "Yeah, I thought that'd be it," he added softly. The deer felt a lot heavier then it should have been.


	6. Bird in a Hole

Altair came back around dark, dragging Ezio’s body behind him. He left the Italian in the stable to Wake Up before coming in. Desmond was with Hawk in the kitchen preparing the venison. He and Jake had arrived a few hours ago, but there was a lot of meat and they were cutting it into portions. Desmond turned when the door opened. Altair had blood on him from carrying Ezio, and probably killing, though he knew the man could kill and be totally spotless.

“Little Bird told me about the idiot,” Hawk said.

“Yeah well there were two of them,” and Altair whapped Desmond on the head.

“Hey!” he yelped, “What was that for?”

“You put yourself in _unnecessary danger_ is what,” Altair snapped. “That man would have killed you.”

“But he didn’t,” Desmond pouted.

“That isn’t the point,” Altair growled at him. “You should have just walked away, instead you stayed with your kill. He _would have shot you_.”

“Ezio was there-

“And he got killed!”

“He’ll get better,” Desmond was now just trying to defend himself from an angry, and more then a little worried, Altair who was both furious at him and himself because Desmond had almost been killed. “Right?”

“Yes,” Altair sighed. “But you can’t take those sort of risks. Understand?” he demanded, not totally unkind. “He’ll get better. You won’t. You’re all we got,” and Desmond felt guilt, a deep, deep, seated guilt that reminded him of what he’d done. Desmond had caused the world to get turned on it’s head. The others thought he could fix it. If his blood was what made this happen then it could be used to undo it. That was the thought at least.

“You,” Jake suddenly came up behind Altair, “stop that right now,” and he actually grabbed Altair _by the ear_ , and pulled him away. Altair swore in Arabic. “ _Stop being pissy at him just because you had to kill some innocents_ ,” and he was pulling Altair away, reprimanding him in Arabic. “ _Now go take a shower you smell like blood and look like hell, what is_ wrong _with you_?” and Altair continued to just swear at him as Jake pulled him down the hall.

Desmond turned to Hawk, who was staring at him. “What… just happened?” Desmond asked.

Hawk rose his brows and then went back to the venison, “I’ve just come to the conclusion I don’t want to know what happens between Crow and the Big Eagle,” he said. “And don’t let what he said get to you. He’s just worried about you. We don’t want to lose you again,” Hawk smiled at him slightly, a sympathetic smile.

Desmond said nothing and just swallowed and went back to what he’d been doing. The sound of their knives on the woodblock was a bit comforting but he could feel Hawk wanting to say something, or ask something. “Don’t ask me if I’m okay,” Desmond said, not having to look at Hawk to know he looked about to ask him just that very thing. “I’m not,” his voice became soft, like a whisper. “I won’t be for a while.”

He expected Hawk to say something. He didn’t. Instead the shorter man suddenly hugged him. That was a shock to say the least since of his ancestors Hawk was always the most aloof and even Altair touched Desmond more then Hawk did. Hawk could be warm sometimes, but he was clinically clean, sterile most times. Usually he’d ruffle Desmond’s hair and even his name ‘Little Bird’ was less a pet name and more part of Hawk’s psychosis that didn’t allow him to call people by their real names. He’d only called Desmond his real name once, shortly after he’d watched Altair die the first time. He didn’t touch unless he couldn’t help it, and even his interactions were distant at best. But now Hawk was… _hugging him_. It was bazaar and foreign and unexpected from the small Bostonian.

He didn’t even get a chance to hug Hawk back before Hawk pulled back and grabbed him on both sides of his face. “I know,” Hawk said, his brown eyes staring into Desmond’s. Even now they were calm, and looked… sorry. “It won’t be okay for a long, long, time, if it ever is. But it _will_ be okay,” Desmond swallowed slowly, not knowing where this was going. This was something he’d never seen in Hawk before. Hawk gave his face a light, comforting, squeeze before letting him go.

Desmond stared at him as Hawk turned back to sectioning the venison properly. He felt like he’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone honestly. “Hawk?” he asked.

“Yes, Little Bird?” he said, trimming useless sinew off of the leg.

He didn’t know what made him ask but he did, “Are you okay?”

Hawk’s smile was off, he didn’t look at Desmond though. “No,” he said softly. “I haven’t been okay in a very long time, Little Bird,” and as he finished he looked at Desmond and Desmond swallowed again. This time out of fear. The man who looked at him both was and was not Hawk. It was Hawk, obviously, his features, and his flat planned nose, and his unruly brown hair pushed off to one side and in a tail. It was his brown eyes and the scar on his mouth, though was higher then the others, only cutting through his top lip and curved up towards his nose— unlike Altair’s which was like someone had tried to flay his mouth open, or Ezio’s which had been from a rock and thus jagged and barely there at all anyway, or even Desmond’s from where he’d gotten mugged by a guy with a knife. It was all Hawk, but he wasn’t the Hawk Desmond knew. It was cold, flat, mechanical, like Hawk had just applied a coat of paint to his face so that everything _looked_ right, but didn’t _feel_ right. Honestly it was sort of like looking at a proeathan hologram, all he needed was paler skin and the fiercely yellow eyes.

Then Hawk smiled somberly and it flicked away like something imagined. “They don’t get it,” Hawk told him and he knew exactly what Hawk was talking about. “They think if they try hard enough, they can fix _it_. Fix _you_ ,” Desmond felt himself nod a little. “They can’t. I can tell you now, they’ll want to. _I_ want to. But they can’t.”

“You, or me?” Desmond asked and _really_ wanted to know what there was to fix inside Hawk. What had broken or come loose to create that part of him he’d just seen and somehow knew was the real Hawk. The one looking at him now was the fake, the mask Hawk wore because he needed to put on an air of being okay. Just like Desmond did. He was okay because the others needed him to be okay, but he wasn’t _okay_. A part of him also wanted to fix it, because that was his nature. He wanted to _fix things_ and sooth hurts and make sure everyone was okay. He knew he couldn’t though.

“Both,” Hawk said and took a deep breath. “It’ll get better Little Bird, I promise. Some days, you’ll even feel like it’s okay. Like you can do this and that you aren’t as broken as are, and are as okay as you’re pretending to be. Some days you’ll have to have to claw yourself out of bed and remind yourself that you’re still alive even, when it hurts. The others will try to make it okay. I know the Big Eagle thinks you’ll bounce back, because that’s what people do; we bounce back. Little Eagle wants it all just to stop, for you to not have to do this anymore, because he gets it. And Crow? Crow doesn’t know anything. They all want it to be okay though. For _you_ to be okay.”

“But I’m not,” Desmond said.

“I know. I _so_ know Little Bird. There’s a black hole in your chest isn’t there?” Desmond said nothing, he didn’t have to tell Hawk he was right for his ancestor to know he was. “It’s a black hole in the shape of an Apple and you have no idea how to fill it, no idea if you can, or how to close it, or how to deal with it.  It’s not great, it’s not good, and it is really not okay. It won’t be, not really, not ever. You’ll always have that hole,” and Desmond swallowed again.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered.

Hawk’s smile was painful, “The only way you’ll get rid of it is if you can forgive yourself. Can you do that?”

Desmond stared at him. Could he forgive himself? Could he forgive himself for running away from the Farm? Could he forgive himself for letting himself get caught? Could he forgive himself for all the sins his ancestors had committed and felt like his own? Could he forgive himself for killing Lucy? Could he forgive himself for damning his _entire_ _species_ to death, or slavery?

“No,” the word fell out of his mouth like a stone dropped in a deep well.

Hawk grinned at him, “Me neither.”

“About what?”

“Killing my friends. Leaving my wife. Letting my son grow up without knowing his father. Losing myself. Letting this,” and he pulled out his Apple, his fingers left smears of deer blood on it’s golden surface, “destroy me. I’ll never forgive myself these things. Not ever. The Eagles have. Big Eagle’s made peace with his ghosts, the Little one has forgiven himself. I can’t. I’ll never be able to, because this _damn hole_ is all I have.”

“You have us,” Desmond said weakly.

Hawk’s smile was almost mean, more like a parent gave a child when they said something they had no understanding of what they were talking about. “No I don’t.”

They said nothing for a few moments and then Desmond asked, “You said it gets better?”

“It gets easier really. To pretend. That you’re okay. We won’t be, but we can tell the others we are,” Hawk said sadly.

“Does Altair ask you?”

“He did. Then I got good at hiding it from him. You’ll learn, even if you don’t want to. Because you’d rather pretend, then let them see how empty you are inside,” and Desmond felt all the blood in his face rush away. 

Not that it wasn’t true though. It _was_ true. He _was_ empty. He was nothing but a failure. He couldn’t do anything right. Fuck, he’d contemplated suicide more times in the past seven months then he had in his entire life, and he’d done that before too. Death would be easy, and hard. Death would almost be welcome. But in this case it _was_ the coward’s way out. It was him running away. Running from his problems, from the mess he’d made. The guilt of running and leaving it behind always stayed his hand. The guilt of letting people down who counted on him to help, their last hope, stayed his hand. For them he kept going. Not for himself. For them.

“Yeah,” Desmond said in soft agreement. Still feeling shell shocked by what Hawk was saying. How everything he was saying rung so true. How it sort of made _dealing with it_ easier actually. Hawk wasn’t asking him if he was okay. Hawk didn’t assume he was okay. Hawk knew he was twisted and hollow and broken inside. The old man was too. He didn’t tell Desmond it would be okay, he was telling Desmond it would be better, how to make it _seem_ better.

“They’ll want to help you,” Hawk said. “Let them. It’ll make them feel better, and you’ll be able to show them you’re okay. Okay?”

Desmond stared at him, “Yeah.”

“Good boy,” Hawk said nicely. “Now,” and then his entire demeanor changed. He became the Hawk he knew, more lively, vigorous, like he’d just mentally shaken off the cobwebs of his own tormented soul. “Enough of that. There’s been enough doom and gloom in the world in the past five years to make _me_ sick,” and somehow Desmond found that funny, because he chuckled. “Lets finish this up. I’m partial for some venison tonight, you?”

“That’s why I killed it,” Desmond said and it was like he was slipping into someone else’s skin. It was still him. It just wasn’t _all_ him. It was a suit, a mask. Inside there was a great, yawning, emptiness of guilt, and shame. But he erected a facade over the ugliness and smiled at Hawk. The others didn’t have to know.


	7. Vulture

Winter was coming, fast and brutal. They couldn’t stay at this latitude, it got too cold, there was little to no game up here and between the five of them one of them would starve. 

Desmond knew if it came down to it the others would all give Desmond their own food before letting him starve. They’d come back anyway, even from starvation. That should have made him feel good. It didn’t though, so he just kept the knowledge tucked away and didn’t mention it. He didn’t want to be this special messiah who people would sacrifice themselves for. It made it kind of hard to sleep at night.

At least one of them was paying attention though. Since he’d found Desmond out in the snow he’d been especially keyed in to Desmond, it was kinda weird, but kinda nice too. He didn’t ask if Desmond ever needed anything or if he could do anything. Just some days when Desmond found it hard to move he’d just sit next to him on the couch and lean against him. Or, during the nights, would proclaim he was going to go crazy with Ezio’s snoring and was stealing Desmond for himself. This almost always happened the nights Altair slept too, even if Desmond wasn’t feeling particularly awful. Whenever he slept with Jake (and sometimes also Altair) he always ended up snuggled up against him (one of them) like he didn’t when he slept in the same bed as Hawk. 

The next morning he usually just… felt better honestly. Better and able to stand up and get out of bed and usually go make breakfast of some kind. He didn’t know if the others noticed, Altair and Ezio didn’t seem to. But he saw the knowledge in Hawk’s eyes, and Hawk never said anything and he knew he wouldn’t say anything. Desmond was just doing exactly what Hawk told him to do. Let them try and help, let them think he was okay, and not let the others know there was a giant, gaping hole in his chest so large he was surprised the others couldn’t see it.

It was the end of September. Ezio took two weeks to recover from the shot gun blast that had destroyed most of his lower torso. They’d eaten most of the deer, killed another one of the goats. They’d be killing the rest of the animals soon, eating of much of it as they possibly could, and salting or drying the rest for when they left.

Desmond had never actually participated in a cow slaughter before.

Despite growing up on a farm, called the Farm (real original honestly), it hadn’t really been a farm. There had been horses, and some gardens. But the adults usually drove to a grocery store at least once every two weeks or so to get supplies from the nearest town. Children weren’t allowed out of the Farm though and Desmond had never left home or been in civilization until he was sixteen. But there were no animals on the Farm save the horses and a hunting eagle owned by a man who’d come from Asia before Desmond had been born. The eagle had been old though and had died when he was small.

So stuff like a cow slaughter was cool. 

Mainly because he’d never done it before, or been to one. Altair and Ezio had _a lot_ of practice however. Desmond and Jake just watched, though Hawk helped a little as they killed the cow outside the barn and let the blood run out. Ezio suggested blood sausage but Desmond, Jake, and Hawk all shot that down in an instant though. As the blood had drained out through the neck and armpits Altair started to skin the animal.

Desmond hadn’t skinned his deer. Not really. He’d skinned part of it, but this was something else entirely to watch his ancestor expertly part the skin from the flesh and peel it down like a banana peel, exposing the dark red meat and fat under it.

Only once the blood had drained out entirely did they finish skinning it and then cutting it up. This was where Hawk helped, putting the large steaks into a bin to be cut into proper shapes later.

“I’m hungry,” Desmond declared, “is that weird?”

Ezio chuckled, “Perhaps a little.”

“I want a hamburger,” and they all laughed. Desmond just grinned.

Everything was collected and the remains of the cow and the dirty ground were dragged out into the woods for the predators and carrion feeders to eat. The meat was cut and they ate a ridiculous amount of beef for a few days and prepared the meat so it wouldn’t go bad quickly or ever and did the same to the last goat. They ate the remaining chickens as chicken didn’t keep like red meat.

It was starting to snow more. Never a lot at once even in October though they said it might be a mild winter if it wasn’t snowing yet. So that was good, they all said that was good, so Desmond believed them; it was good. Jake kept a sharp eye on him the nights it snowed hard, sometimes sleeping on the pull out bed in the front he was sure just so Desmond couldn’t. Desmond didn’t comment on it and he was sure Jake had never mentioned what he’d said to the others. He knew if Jake had the others would just treat him like glass.

When all the meat had been eaten, cured, dried, salted or in some way preserved it was time to go. They packed up the house. All the linens were washed and put away, the fireplace was stocked with wood on the side. They were leaving, before the heavier snows came. But they weren’t really locking the house up, the front door was being left unlocked in case stupid people were still here in the winter, or got lost. It could be a haven. An empty haven, but a haven.

They all packed a bag with warm clothes and their few personal items. Except Desmond, he had no personal items, they were all gone now. It occurred to him he hadn’t had ‘personal items’ even when he’d been with them the last time. He lived by his wits and the clothes on his back. But then he’d never been overly sentimental about things, because things were replaceable. The food was all packed as well in separate bags so if something happened they wouldn’t lose all of it. The same with the rest of the gear.

It was threatening to snow when they left. Desmond was standing outside with Jake, waiting. The other three had left an hour ago with some of their gear. The sky was a uniform color gray like the color of wet wool. Desmond blew smoke rings out of his mouth with just his breath, sort of. They weren’t _real_ smoke rings, but the way you blew in the still air could make something _sort_ of like them.

They both looked left at the sound of noise. It sounded like a weedwacker, but bigger. _Much_ bigger, and getting closer. Desmond’s eyes widened when a four-by-four skidded around the edge of the house. Ezio was sitting in the driver’s seat wearing mirrored ski goggles and a shit eating grin as Desmond and Jake stared at him open mouthed.

“Holy crap!” Desmond cried at seeing Ezio and his ancestor pushed on the throttle over to them. The ATV rolled to a stop in front of them.

“Where the others?” Jake asked, they could still hear the sound of the four-by-four engines to Ezio’s idling one.

“Comin’” was all Ezio said and got off the four-by-four. He picked up his set of bags and strapped them to the back of the automobile with bungee cords. As he was finishing two more four-by-fours rounded the house, Altair and Hawk both riding on them, and towing another. Well that explained why they were so far behind.

“Wow I get my own, how exciting,” Jake said, like an asshole, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Figured you’ve ridden bitch enough to deserve your own,” Altair said, his face utterly expressionless with heavily tinted, black, ski goggles over his eyes.

“Uhg,” was all Hawk said.

“This one’s yours,” Altair told Desmond, nodding to the one behind him and unhooked the two four-by-fours.

“ _Sweet_ ,” he said and grabbed the two and a half bags he was carrying around and mimicked Ezio. Altair and Hawk finished loading up their cargo and Jake strapped his on and it was ready to go. “I’ve never driven one of these things,” Desmond added as Altair handed him ski goggles, no doubt to keep the snow and dirt and _everything_ out of his face. They had mirrored lenses like Ezio’s.

“Me neither,” Jake said, they were all siting astride their vehicles.

“It’s idiot proof,” Hawk said, also sporting the blacked-out goggles, Jake had mirrored though like him, though Desmond had his on his forehead right now and Jake was holding onto his as he leaned on the four-by-four’s handlebars. “Turn it on, and it’s… like riding a motorcycle actually.”

“Really? Well shit I can do that,” Desmond said obviously, though he hadn’t ridden a motorcycle in nearly six years now. He grinned at Jake and pulled his mirrored goggles down over his eyes. “So where we going?”

“South west,” Altair said.

“South west where?”

Altair looked at Ezio and Hawk and Desmond if he could see anything out of those goggles. Apparently he could because he turned back to him and Jake. “Final destination is Greece, to wait out the winter.”

“How long’ll that take?”

“Few weeks, four-by-fours are solar powered, and run on a fuel cell,” more eco friendly, renewable energy thanks to Hawk, “they can go pretty fast too.”

“What if it snows?” Jake asked.

“Because I, once again, am a total fucking genius,” Hawk proclaimed and drew their attention to him. “Observe,” and he turned a knob on his handle bars Desmond only now noticed he had too. A few seconds passed and then fucking _spikes_ came out of the wheels. Like… traction spikes.

“Oh that is so cool!” Desmond cried.

Hawk chuckled, “I thought so,” and Hawk turned the knob back and a few seconds later the spikes retracted again. “You have to be stopped for them to work though,” he added.

“Fair deal,” Jake said. Then he looked up at the sky, “We might need them today.”

“Lets hope not,” Ezio said. “Ready?” he asked him and Jake.

“Totally,” Desmond replied with a slightly mad grin and tried the throttle, the four-by-four throbbed and it took him exactly ten seconds to figure out how to shift gears and did a half lap around his ancestors and Jake.

 Altair led, shooting off first, once it was clear they could both at least make the thing go. Hawk followed after him. Desmond pulled up the hood of his coat, tucking his chin into tall neck and Ezio motioned for him to go after Jake. He did and Ezio went last. At least they hadn’t put him in the middle like some sort of sacred relic, though he had a feeling that was what Ezio had put him second to last for anyway.


	8. Day Owl

Desmond always knew when he woke up screaming because the flood of panic and terror was totally blinding. Like now as he jerked awake, something sitting on his chest and he didn’t think rationally before grabbing and twisting. There was a yowl and he let go and scrambled out of his sleeping bag, the cold air seeping through his under armor as he crouched a few feet away. His breath come out as a thick cloud as he panted and the world came into focus. Sort of at least, it was pitch black out and even his good eyes couldn’t penetrate it. He blinked into Eagle Vision and four towers of blue appeared in his sight. One of them was on the ground but he couldn’t figure out who.

“Desmond?” someone asked and he swallowed and fell back to sit. He was sweating and his skin was clammy in the cold and he couldn’t get his heart or his breathing under control. He hadn’t had one of these episodes since Monteriggioni. Since he was Bleeding. He pressed his hands over his face, with a groan like a sob. “Desmond,” someone touched him.

He swung out, batted them away and rolled to his feet, a little twitchy from the event. Usually he woke up alone and the others didn’t know he woke himself up with his screaming. And he could usually hold it together because he was alone because people weren’t there and present and _touching him_.

He took a step back, as the blue figures, who he couldn’t really make the figures out of, approached him. “Desmond,” one said again, but their voice was strange. He took another shaky step back and one of them reached a blue hand out to touch him, he jerked back and without thinking, barely able to understand what he was doing; he was running.

The woods sped past him, snow and dead leaves crunching under his bare feet but he didn’t feel the ice. He didn’t feel the stabbing bite of the cold air hitting his lungs. He felt none of it, only the wind on his face and the force of his feet as they struck the earth.

He didn’t know how long he ran. He ran until he was exhausted, until he couldn’t hold himself up and the trees blurred into darkness as his Eagle Vision faded. He was in darkness and darkness was in him. He breathed it and soaked it in and fell into it, dropping to his knees as his legs gave out from running and the cold.

Why was this happening? Why now? Why him? This wasn’t fair!

He realized he was beating the ground and when he pulled his hands away they were bloody and full of dirt and snow and dead leaves. He could feel it snowing and he looked up into the black sky, though couldn’t see the flakes as there was no light. It was utter black. So dark. So dark.

Desmond laid down on the cold ground. He was used to dark. The dark had been him for five years. He wasn’t afraid of it, though he wasn’t a fan of this cold. He missed his warm, dark place. As fucked up as that was he _missed_ being a prisoner. Because he didn’t dream there, and he didn’t feel anything there. He had felt nothing except the comforting, warm, darkness that had been his existence.

He heard figures in the snow. He pressed his face into the ground, waiting for them to take him back, take him somewhere. Because they were always going somewhere. But he couldn’t move, and it was like he couldn’t walk again. The figures didn’t move though, just stood around him in a circle.

After a few minutes he realized they weren’t moving. He pulled his face off the ground and looked around. But all there was was darkness. He switched into Eagle Vision and had to blink several times as several pillars of silver-white appeared in front of him. Blue was friend. Red was enemy. Yellow was target. Gray was the world and innocents. White, like this, was a place to hide, it was safety away from those who’d try to hurt him. He’d never seen a person be white before.

Desmond pushed himself up slowly, trailing dirt and twigs, to sit up and look at those around him. There were seven of them, standing there. He couldn’t really see what they looked like, instead they were mainly featureless, their faces blank slates, though he could tell genders by their shapes. There were four women, and three men, and Desmond stared at them.

“Who are you?” he asked them, his voice so soft he almost couldn’t hear it himself.

“We want to help you,” one of them said, a woman, for some reason she sounded like his mother.

He stared at them and this all felt very familiar, him sitting, surrounded by great, towering, figured. “You’re proeathans” he said softly.

“We are,” said a man with a very very deep, but somehow thin voice.

“Go away,” he said shaking his head and getting to his feet, pushing himself off the ground forcibly. It wasn’t snowing anymore and when he looked up he could see not just stars but nebulas and galaxies.

“Desm-

“Go. Away,” and he walked through their circle and into the dark. “I wish you’d just let me die,” he said to both himself and the proeathans he left behind. The darkness swirled around him and then there was nothing. Desmond embraced it and felt like he could breathe.

—

Desmond woke with a start. Not a screaming start. But a start. He wasn’t instantly awake but he could hear the others sleeping around the fire in their sleeping bags, close to the flame for warmth. Altair was sitting on his sleeping bag, still fully dressed, facing away from the fire. But when he heard Desmond shift around he looked back.

“Okay?” Altair asked, not about his mental health. Not this time. This time about his sleep, which was different.

Desmond wriggled and slid out of his sleeping bag. He realized as his thinly clothed limbs hit the night air that he was really hot, and the air felt good. He walked over and sat next to Altair in just his under armor, which kept him warm, to a degree, but the fabric was thin and while kept heat in and wet and cold out, it wasn’t the best insulator. Desmond didn’t feel the chill. He was hot and liked the bite of cold on his skin.

“Des?” Altair asked.

“I dreamed of the proeathans,” he said softly. Altair looked at him intently, but didn’t ask. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper as he sat next to Altair, not touching him, “I dreamt I woke up screaming, like when I was Bleeding. I ran away from you, into the woods. They showed up, seven of them,” he turned to Altair. “They said they wanted to help.”

“And what did you say?” Altair asked.

“To leave me alone,” he looked at Altair with something like hopelessness.

Altair frowned at him, “I’m sorry,” he said.

Desmond sighed and looked away. “They won’t, will they?” he asked the darkness.

“Probably not,” he agreed, “Not unless you _make them_ ,” and Desmond didn’t ask how. He knew Altair didn’t have a real answer for him, because he didn’t know any more than Desmond did. Desmond could still remember what he told Pluto just before he was taken. What he’d do. He’d get his end, one he ripped away from the hands of fate and then beat everyone with it. Because he wasn’t playing their games anymore.


	9. Altering the Flight Path

Flying was cool. But the thing about flying was that eventually you had to fall, and falling meant there was an impact. The impact was what woke Desmond up, thrashing in his sleeping bag and sitting up, panting. Altair rose a brow at him, he just shook his head and laid back down, trying to go to sleep.

This wasn’t his first dream of falling, of hitting the ground. It always left him slightly ill too. His dreams were becoming more violent and volatile, waking him up more. The worst was that they weren’t Bleeding dreams, and they weren’t screaming dreams. They were other dreams. Sometimes he was falling, sometimes he was fighting, sometimes running, but in the end he was always dying. Not as Altair or Ezio, but as _himself_. He’d never had dreams like that and for good reason it kinda freaked him out. Watching a blade sticking out of his own chest made him sick and falling off a high building without anything to cushion his fall was utterly terrifying.

It made it hard to go back to sleep. Tonight was no different and he watched the sun turn the sky pink and magenta, while pretending to be asleep. He closed his eyes for a moment ready to get up for the day as the others roused themselves.

He was standing in front of a huge display. It was weirdly familiar, but he couldn’t tell you why. It was massive though and showed the world, with the near east being the center and the rest of the world off from there. On the map were pricks of light, sixteen of them. He spotted two in the middle east, two in Italy, another in the Congo, one in Finland and another in Spain. There were two in Russia and one in Australia. An eleventh was in New York and another in Mexico, two were in South America, one at the very tip. The fifteenth was in the Yukon and the last was in the middle of the Gobi desert.

“The center of the world,” he spun around, it was Lucy: Venus.

“Excuse me?”

“For you at least,” she stepped up next to him. “You people can trace all of your civilization back to the Middle East, the fertile creasent,” and she reached up, tracing a part on the diplay and the Tigres and Euprades blazed blue on the otherwise featureless display.

“Yeah,” Desmond said, “Babylon, Phoenia, Mesopotamia. Is there a _point_ to this?” he asked.

She looked at him, “You’re the point,” he just stared at her. She grinned. “There’s a lot you don’t know, and I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because no everyone wants to help you. If I told you they’d know, they’re probably listening right now,” she looked behind her. Desmond did the same, there was darkness around them, and in it he saw pairs of golden specks; eyes. They were watching them.

“What do you people want from me?”

“You’re going to fix this.”

“Well _thanks_ ,” he sniped, “I only thought I was fixing it the first time. How do I even know I can trust you?” he demanded.

“Have I lied to you before?”

He hesitated, “No,” he admitted.

“Exactly. I have never lied to you Desmond. I don’t want to. I, personally, have been waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why?”

“Because I like to see the future come to pass, and because I like you humans,” her smile was nice, but it didn’t look like Lucy at all despite the fact that she was wearing the blonde’s face. “Most of us want to see you all enslaved, a science thesis gone wrong. You were both their hope, and your peoples’ as well.”

“Okay. So did you know I’d say yes?”

“Sadly.”

“And you didn’t tell me to say no?” he demanded.

“Would you have listened?”

He was silent for a moment, “No,” he admitted.

“You aren’t one to listen to authority Desmond, or us, so I knew telling you to say no to Pluto wouldn’t work. And despite what you try not to do you follow your Creed nearly to a letter. If I would have told you to say no you would have said yes anyway, because it was your choice, and your Order preaches about free will and choice don’t they?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“So don’t be angry I didn’t tell you to say no.”

He sighed, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Now, there’s somewhere you need to go.”

“Where?”

He woke up when Jake gave him a little shake. “Rise and shine Des!” he declared, the sun rising behind him. He was already dressed in cold weather gear, and wearing a _ridiculous_ hat.

He groaned, “Where are we?” he asked, disorientated.

“Now? Right now we’re in what _was_ Turkey, remember? We’re going to Greece.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” he sat up, still in his sleeping bag, “We’re not going to Greece.”

The others looked at him. “We’re not?” Hawk asked, sounding confused as he looked about to eat some breakfast.

“I had a dream,” he said, “Venus was in it.”

“Oh goodie, more A.I.s, my favorite,” Ezio said.

“Hey, that’s _my_ A.I.,” Hawk said, glaring,

Desmond wrestled himself out of his sleeping bag so he was able to get out and in the cool morning his breath was already fog. He didn’t feel the cold. “We need to go to Syria,” he said. Altair’s head twisted to him, his eyes weirdly dangerous as he stooped over the coffee pot over the little fire.

“What’s in Syria? Besides Masyaf I mean?” Ezio said.

“There’s a temple, in Jerusalem.”

“Kid, you know Jerusalem is in Israel right?”

“Screw you my geography’s all fucked up. I still think of Italy as city states thanks,” he groaned at Ezio, making a face at him for good measure. Ezio just chuckled. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t keep things straight all the time. The timelines all just kinda… bled together and while he was never Ezio or Altair he couldn’t remember dates very well now and he was more likely to remember things based on old terms.

“So, Jerusalem?” Altair asked. “Where?”

“Under the Dome of the Rock.”

Altair was quiet for a moment, “The only thing under there is Solomon’s Temple,” he said, not looking at anyone or thing but Desmond.

“I know,” Desmond was now standing in just his underarmor and socks in the cool Turkish morning, the others were dressed. “What do you think Solomon’s Temple was?”

There was a long silence, “Bull shit,” Jake said, Desmond didn’t even blink at him knowing. He knew. And he didn’t just know, but he _knew_.

“Nope,” Desmond looked at him.

“It’s all stonework,” Jake insisted.

“Yeah so? A temple sits under the Colluseum. The temple _is_ in Solomon’s Temple. We need to get to it,” he said.

“Why? What’s there?” Hawk asked.

Desmond rolled up his sleeve, his entire arm was riddled with the geometry. “This,” he said and waved it at them slightly, “is a map.”

“Bull shit,” Jake said again.

“Venus said the proeathan there could read it,” Desmond said, looking at his arm from all sides.

“You belive her?”

“I believe that something’s up with this thing,” Desmond said. “It doesn’t go away any more really. If anything it’s _spreading_ ,” he rolled up his other sleeve and his underarmor pants. His calves and other arm were _covered_ in the geometry. “So yeah. Even if its _not_ a map. At the least they might be able to tell me what the hell is going on.”

“No offense Little Bird, but the last time you ran into an A.I. we lost you,” Hawk said. “Not keen on that again.”

“Me neither,” he only half lied with that. “But unless you can tell me what this is,” he motioned to the glowing geometry, “I think we should go to Israel.” He rolled down his sleeves and pant legs.

Altair looked at him keenly, “Before you told me you were done with the Ancients. What’s with the change of heart?”

“I’m human, and humans change their minds?” he rose his brows at him.

“Hmm,” Altair said. “Okay. Israel,” and he got to his feet from where he’d been at the hot pot, looking like he’d just finished pouring coffee. He even had a cup in his hand. “We’ll pack up and head for Israel.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ezio said.

“I am,” Altair said and took a sip. He made a face, but drank regardless. “As it is there isn’t much we can do now. We don’t know the situation. Last year Greece was crawling with freemen. I sort of doubted it’d stay that way. This is good though. From Israel we can cross the horn of Africa to Egypt, and head along the coat. We’ll find someplace there to set for the winter most likely.”

“Okay,” Ezio said, though was still uneasy.

“It’ll be fine Ezio,” Altair said and looked between him and Desmond, “We won’t let him out of our sight this time.”

“You act like I _want_ to get captured again,” Desmond sighed at them. The ancients looked at him and he could tell they weren’t saying something. Desmond’s mouth became thin but he didn’t ask. If they weren’t telling him it was probably better. Right? He had to hope so.


	10. Feathers that Shine

It took them a while to get to Jerusalem. The weather had shifted dramatically in this part of the world and where before it was desert in five years the coasts had become a swamp and full of rain. The usual flat prairie and desert was green, though the sand still claimed huge chunks of the middle east. Five years could do a lot, but it couldn’t reclaim the desert, though oasises were more common. It also meant that the dirt roads that had been there were gone, washed away in the rain and they had to take unknown routes, but that was okay as the ATVs were more than up for the challenge.

It got warmer the more they traveled and even though in the north it would be snowing they could get away with long sleeves during the day too. The sun was bright and cool, but like before became cold during the night, icily so, with freezing winds coming from the north. In the late afternoon huge clouds would start to gather, and it rained on the coast. It rained in the desert too. Desmond had never seen so much rain in Syria or Israel before.

It was raining when they arrived in Jerusalem. It made the city gray. They found an abandoned home inside the city and made it home base. Then they proceeded to wait out the storm, eating food they’d gathered along the way.

“It’s kinda eerie,” Desmond said, looking out the window. Rain slammed against the glass. Hawk, as usual when it was a heavy storm, was no where to be seen.

“What is?” Jake was sitting next to him. They were in the front of the house, the vulnerable side with open windows and the lone un-renforced door, and having their turn keeping watch.

“Last time I saw this place it was so different.”

“You mean as Altair?”

“Yeah,” Desmond nodded. “Can you see it?” he asked.

“I can,” Jake said. “I could could probably navigate the older districts pretty easily.”

“There’s no one here either,” Desmond said softly. “No people. No animals. We haven’t even seen any dogs,” they’d seen packs of wild dogs in the other cities they’d passed through, and also seen bodies, people who’d died and been eaten by the animals. Wild dogs were the most common though, mangy things who would chase you and try to eat you, because there was nothing for them to eat otherwise. They’d killed some, when they got too close. He’d never seen anyone turn on an animal faster than Hawk either. They hadn’t even heard the dog, but Hawk had and in the time it took Desmond to register the noise of a dog’s breath Hawk had a knife through its skull. They’d left the dog for another pack to eat and gone on their way quickly right after.

“It is raining,” Jake said.

“Yeah. But… I don’t think there are even any dogs here at all,” he looked at his hand. The geometry danced brilliantly, brighter than usual. He had to sleep with gloves and sleeves or they could be seen at a distance and they could be found. He’d been having strange dreams lately of falling down deep holes, though he always woke up before he hit the bottom and sometimes it sort of felt like his skin was… breathing. It was a really weird sensation to describe and the others were thoroughly distressed by it, though didn’t know what to do about it either. The ‘breathing’ had started when they’d been a day out of Jerusalem.

“Why do you think that?” Jake asked.

“I dunno. Just a feeling,” Desmond looked out into the rain gray city. He pressed his finger to the glass and it fogged up a little. He traced a line and they both actually jumped when it left behind a _line of light_. He jerked his hand back. “The hell?” he squeaked.

“No idea- Altair!” Jake yelled back into the house.

“What?” came Altair’s call.

“Get over here. Desmond’s doing something weird.”

A moment later Altair appeared, Ezio right behind him. “What?” Altair asked.

“He just did a thing,” Jake said, pointing at Desmond.

“Well that is _amazingly_ helpful. Thank you Jake,” Ezio said.

Desmond was looking at his hand with wide eyes. What the _fuck_ had just happened? He was pretty sure that wasn’t _supposed_ to happen. The line on the window had vanished though, so that was something and he could feel the slow ebb and flow of his skin, like liquid was rolling just under his skin, strengthen. It wasn’t painful, it was just weird.

“Well?” he looked up when Altair spoke at him, “Do the thing,” he ordered.

“I’ll try,” he said, staring at his ancestors. Then he looked back at the glass and ran his finger along it.

“What the hell?” Ezio asked as Desmond left a line in wake of his finger.

“That was what we were thinking,” Jake said frowning.

“Do it on something else,” Altair said.

“Huh?” Desmond looked at him with a raised brow.

“Touch my hand,” and Altair held out his hand. Desmond did so tentatively. Altair grabbed his wrist with his other hand and firmly pressed their hands together. Then he pulled his hand off and looked at it. No mark. Nothing and no trace of light.

“Hey- hey! Altair what are you-“ and Altair proceeded to totally commandeer Desmond’s hand and touched it to various things around them including Ezio’s face.

“I don’t think it works like that,” Ezio said dully around Desmond’s fingers.

“Well I don’t see you offering up any ideas,” Altair said.

“Can I have my hand back?” Desmond whined. Altair relinquished Desmond’s limb.

“Do the glass again,” Altair said, Desmond dragged all his fingers across the surface. It left behind a slightly glowing trail. “Ezio, go get Hawk.”

“Fuck no,” Ezio said. “Like I’ll deal with him when it’s raining out. You know how he-

“Go. Get. Hawk. Ezio,” Altair growled threatening.

Ezio leaned back a little, “Fine. All right, all right, keep those fangs to yourself, my god,” and he left them.

“What do you need Hawk for?” Desmond asked.

“Well, he has an Apple,” Altair said.

“What are you going to do?”

“If we can rip him away from his pity party I’ll try and hitch along for it.”

“For what?”

Altair sigh, “It’s just easier if you see it and not-

“Get off me!” they heard Hawk yell from upstairs. “No I don’t wanna go- Damnit Ezio I will _kill you!_ ”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Jake said as they looked up at the ceiling, which was also the floor of the second floor. Then there was a loud thud. “Do you think he’s dead?” Jake asked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time they killed each other over something stupid,” Altair said dryly.

“How did you guys not murder each other like a hundred times when we first met up?” Desmond suddenly asked.

“We were… being good,” Altair admitted, “And didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Well trust me, I was plenty freaked out.”

“Sorta what we thought.”

“Is this how they always are?” Desmond asked Jake.

“You mean it isn’t obvious? _Yes_. Good god and the number of times I’ve had to stitch one of them up when they didn’t _quite_ go all the way under,” he sounded amazingly put upon by the entire thing.

They heard something fall down the stairs. “Really?” Desmond asked Altair.

“Or Ezio could have hog tied him,” Altair said passionlessly. Jake was rubbing between his eyes.

“Oh, look, it stopped raining,” Desmond said, glancing out the window. While it _had_ stopped raining the sky was still black.

“Oh good. Hawk,” Altair called, “did you kill Ezio?”

“No, he didn’t,” Ezio said and shoved Hawk into the room. “Stop looking at me like that,” he added to the short man. Hawk just spat something at him in a very strange language. “Yeah yeah, save it,” Ezio rolled his eyes.

“What the hell do you people want?” Hawk growled.

“Desmond did a thing,” Jake pointed at him.

“Jake… shut up,” Altair said with a sigh sounding very resigned to the fact that Jake was actually a bit of an idiot. No really, Jake sort of was. He was smart in some aspects, but he was kinda dumb at times. “He’s leaking.”

“Leaking? What the hell do you mean _leaking_?” Hawk stared at Altair funnily.

“Desmond, show him,” Altair said. Desmond did.

Hawk was suddenly pressed up close to the window. “Wow,” he said in a tone that was no longer irritated or pissed. He sounded fascinated actually and any previous misgivings were forgiven. “Do it again,” he ordered. Desmond made a line and like Altair Hawk grabbed his wrist and made it touch other things. “Only glass,” he said softly. Then he made Desmond press his hand flat to the glass. It left behind a glowing handprint. Hawk poked at it. “That… is so cool!” he decided.

“Yeah, great,” Desmond said in a resigned sort of way. “Why’s it doing that?” he asked.

“I have no idea but it’s cool. Draw something.”

“Hawk… really?” Ezio asked.

“What? I have no idea what’s doing it,” Hawk said, “might as well fiddle with it,” he grinned hugely.

“I don’t think I- hey! Damnit Hawk,” and Desmond made a long face when his ancestor used his hand, against Desmond’s will mind you, to draw patterns on the glass. They faded slowly and after about two minutes the first lines had vanished. “Hawwwwk,” he sighed, “can I have my hand back?”

Hawk however wasn’t listening, “I wonder,” and he pushed Desmond’s sleeve up. Desmond had to squeeze his eyes shut though. The lines on his arm were too bright. They hadn’t been that bright the other day, but he hadn’t taken off his clothes in the past few days. “Well shit,” Hawk said and reclothed Desmond’s arm.

“What the hell was that? What the hell is happening?” Ezio asked. He sounded more than a little freaked out.

“I think we should find that temple,” Jake said. “I’m sure they’ll be able to tell us.”

“Agreed,” Altair said. “Hawk, hands off,” he slapped Hawk’s hands off Desmond. “Everyone pack up, if need be we might have to leave quickly. Don’t bring anything with you you can’t carry easy on the way to the temple.”

“Uhg,” Desmond still had his eyes closed. He felt sort of sick actually. The others were moving around him.

“You okay?” Altair asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I think so?”

“We’ll figure this out,” Altair promised.

“I hope so,” Desmond said, face pale. This was like… the opposite of fun.

“We will,” Altair said in a firm tone and squeezed his shoulder. “Now go pack your things. We need to leave soon.”

“Okay,” Desmond croaked and slid out of the chair. Altair kept watch since he knew Altair didn’t actually unpack, ever. He just sat down where Desmond had been and stared at the window. Desmond could imagine his frown.


	11. Better than Eagle Vision

The tunnel that led down to Solomon's Temple was in even worse shape then when Altair had been down there. And that was saying something since the place had been falling apart even then. One of the others always went first, to make sure whatever something or another could hold their weight if required, or that something wouldn't cave in on them. Apparently being smashed was something you could come back from too, so long as they got the body someplace with air above and around. Desmond thought maybe he should look into this whole 'immortality' thing. Other than living forever there weren't that many draw backs. Sure he'd always outlive his friends, but really Desmond had never actually had those and moved around a lot anyway, he couldn't see a downside honestly.

Then they came to excavation site. It was eerie and familiar in a way that made all the hair on Desmond's arms stand up on end. The rubble that had separated Altair from Malik and Kadar nearly a millennia ago was still there. There were no bones (oh  _thank_ _god_ _!_ ) and no sign that anything had ever happened there. Jake was silent, staring at it the room, his eyes and flashlight beam tracking invisible ghosts, Altair was looking at the ground, refusing to look at anything at all, even them.

"So what now?" Hawk asked. "As far as any of us know this is the farthest down you can go, and even then it's further than most archeologists ever went."

"I think," Desmond blinked and the world washed out. "Shine the light over there," he pointed at the wall. Ezio, with a large flashlight, pointed the light at the wall.

"What do you see?" Ezio asked.

"Nothing yet. Lemmie see it," Ezio had the biggest flash light. He took it and used it to see. Really he didn't need it, but it helped. He flashed it all over, but saw nothing.

"Maybe it's beyond the rubble?" Ezio suggested carefully.

"This is the Temple," Desmond said firmly. "Go into the Sight, what do you see?" The other three turned golden eyed. They all looked around, flashlight beams jittering, except Jake who didn't have special eyes like they did.

"Nothing," Hawk said.

"Same," Ezio said a moment later.

"Also, same," Altair confessed a longer time later, as if trying to do it where they couldn't. "Are you sure Desmond?"

"No," he confessed. "But Venus told me it was here. There must be something I'm not doing right," Desmond frowned.

"When you entered the Grand Temple," Jake suddenly said, "it was dark, right?"

"Huh?"

"In New York, when you got taken away. The tunnel was dark. I could barely see in there and fell a few times. What if it's too bright in here?" and he clicked off his flashlight. The others looked at each other.

"Can't hurt," Altair agreed and clicked off his own. Hawk clicked off his and Desmond Ezio's, he himself didn't have one. "What do we see?" he asked and Desmond didn't doubt the others were looking around.

"Nothing," Hawk and Ezio said.

"Desmond?" Altair asked after a minute where Desmond didn't answer. "Desmond," he said again and the light switch on, shining on him. He started and looked at his ancestor, "Answer me when I talk to you kid," he said and Desmond heard the edge to it. For a moment Altair had been scared he'd been grabbed right out from under them again.

"Sorry. Turn it off," Desmond said, flapping his hand at Altair. Altair clicked the flashlight off. "I was just distracted," he said.

"What do you see?" Altair asked.

"I'm pretty sure Solomon's Temple was first an proeathan temple," Desmond said slowly.

"What?" was the resounding feeling.

"All the rocks, all the supports;  _everything_  in this place is covered," and Desmond did a slow circle. "Oh my god this is crazy," he literally couldn't stop moving, if he did he'd never see it all. The stone was still stone, but it was covered in thousands of narrow lines that ran in patterns and shapes that were white, some were familiar, others weren't. He saw the symbol of the Assassins, and Abstergo, and the Templars, he saw the all seeing eye, the U.S. eagle, the England Coat of Arms, every insignia on every flag was on here. On the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor, on the columns. There were other shapes too that he didn't recognize and fibonacci spirals. They were in some sort of arrangement that looked random, but the more Desmond looked he realized were not and that they were in perfect relation to one another. "I wish you guys could see this," he said softly.

"What is it?" Hawk asked.

"Everything," and then he looked down. While the symbols continued here there were other markings too. Some were in red, others in gold. "There's stuff here, move," and while he could see he knew the others couldn't.

"Desmond," Hawk said as he was following one of the golden lines.

"Hmm?"

"Take off one of your gloves."

"Huh?" that drew him up short.

"Take off one of your gloves," Desmond did so unthinkingly. The tiny shapes on his hand glowed brightly, seeming to pulse with his breathing. "That's just enough to see by, yeah?" Hawk asked the others.

"And doesn't blind him," Altair agreed.

"Move," Desmond wasn't looking at where he was going, he was looking down, and nearly ran into Altair, who stepped out of the way. Desmond walked the length of the golden line. It ended in a twelve pointed star and there were two golden lines going off it to six pointed stars. Desmond looked around him at the floor, the light pushing through centuries and centuries and millennia of dust. "This," he said, realizing what he was looking at, "is an astrological map."

"Okay," Altair said slowly.

"If you could see this you'd realize why this is so cool," Desmond told them, but they couldn't see. They were so woefully blind. "So, there are white parts that are shapes, all over. If it's a surface it has these shapes on it, like insignias, the sign of the Assassins, everything, old, new, you name it. And then, here on the floor," he pointed down and saw everyone look, "are red and gold lines. The gold lines are constellations, though none I'm familiar with."

"Are you familiar with constellations at all?" Ezio asked.

"When I was on the run I slept outside a lot. I bought a astrology guide so I could see the stars properly. I memorized most of it so I didn't have it as weight. So yes. I do. These aren't our constellations."

"So then who's are they?" Hawk asked.

"Their proeathan constellations," Desmond was grinning like a fucking maniac.

"And the red lines?" Altair asked.

"Not sure yet," Desmond said and started walking the red lines. As he did he built a mental image of what it looked like from the top down. "They're a map."

"What sort?"

"Continental, like the one you made on your Codex," Desmond said.

"Ah," Altair nodded, Hawk and Jake just looked confused, but Ezio understood that.

"I think the gold lines correspond to where they are over the earth," Desmond said and then looked over them and counted. "There are seventeen," he said.

"There are eighty-eight human ones," Jake said, the others looked at him. "What? I read okay?" he asked indignantly.

"Yeah but most people only know like twelve or so," Hawk put in. "The zodiac, plus like Orion, Ursa, maybe Draco and Hydra if you're lucky."

"So about the same? The main ones."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Ezio asked.

"No idea. We're just thinking out loud Little Eagle. You know thinking? Something you should do more often-

"I don't need to see you to beat the shit out of you Hawk!" Ezio snarled.

"Easy, both of you," Altair said sternly. Ezio and Hawk shot each other filthy looks. "What else Desmond?" he asked.

Desmond looked around again. It was just the same. "That's it," he said with a frown. "The ceiling is in a pattern, but I can't tell what at a glance."

"Could you draw it?" Hawk asked.

"Mmm?"

"Could you recreate it on something?" he clarified.

"Well not the shapes."

"But the placements?"

"Yeah, probably," Desmond agreed.

Hawk pulled out his computer. "C'mere, draw on this," he didn't turn it on but Desmond got what he was getting at. Hawk's computer was a piece of ultra hard glass. Desmond took it in his gloved hand and raised it above his head. He pressed his bare finger to the glass underneath and as the ceiling was nice and high, and the symbols rather small, he could fit a good chunk of the ceiling on the glass. He worked quickly, as he had about a two minute window to do this before the light faded.

As soon as he was done he gave it to Hawk who quickly booted it up. The light washed out Desmond's eyes and made the Temple lines hard to see. But Hawk was quickly transcribing Desmond's dots as data points. A moment later he was using his own finger to draw on a program, running through the dots he'd made. "Golden Ratio," he said after only about a minute of doing that.

"You can tell that quickly?"

"The Golden Ratio is pretty specific looking," Hawk shrugged. "But maybe if you could find the focal point?"

"It'd be a more obvious spiral right?" Hawk nodded. "Okay, turn that off, I can't see." Hawk powered down his computer.

Desmond looked, but he couldn't see anything else. There was no tight spiral, there was just the graceful curving, large, fibonacci spiral. He narrowed his eyes and strained, he wanted to see, he wanted to do this. He wanted this. He wanted this.

All at once his vision shifted abruptly. "Oh!" he said.

"What?" one of them asked.

Desmond just have his mouth open, "Fuck," he breathed.

"Desmond," one of them said pointedly.

"Shut up," he snapped and stared around him. The entire scene was the same, only now he was seeing it not through the second sight, but through his dark vision. His dark vision was nearly perfect now, and there was very little difference between dark and daylight to him. He wondered…

Desmond pulled on his glove, casting the Temple into total darkness.

There was a long silence.

"Desmond?" Ezio asked carefully.

"I'm here," he said in a small voice, "I'm here."

"What do you see?" Ezio asked.

A new color had appeared to him. It was green. "The door," he said. He grabbed Jake's arm, "reach out to your right, that's Hawk. Grab him," he ordered. Jake did as commanded. "Ezio, take two steps forward and reach out to two O'clock, that's Altair. Altair," he leaned over and took Altair's hand, "that's me."

"How are you seeing this?" Altair asked, as even Eagle Vision required  _some_  light.

"I don't know. But I am. Now, this way, I'll tell you if you need to take a big step, and when you can turn on the flashlights," and he led them along a path of a narrow green line that arced from the rubble from a millennia ago, to under an unsuspecting looking arch. He transferred Jacob's hand to Altair's arm, still holding Altair's. "So there is this flower like shape, and a handprint on it. I'm ganna put my hand there," Altair squeezed his hand so hard it sort of hurt and Desmond pressed his gloved hand to the print.

The wall opened and wind rushed in to fill the empty space. "Okay," Desmond said, "turn on the flashlights. I found the proeathan temple," he said, looking at them with another manic look on his face as they turned on the lights. Beyond the wall was a black maw of a room that reflected no light back at them. Desmond turned forward and took a step inside.


	12. The Bird in the Moon

It was a darkness like a bottom of the ocean. The beams of light did nothing to penetrate it and just shined into the darkness endlessly. They did not penetrate it, they did not bounce off anything. There was just darkness. It reminded Desmond of the pod he'd been in. It didn't make him upset though.

Then the door closed behind them, scaring  _everyone_  and making them jump, even Altair.

"Well, not going out that way," Jake said uneasily. "What do you guys see? Cause I'm blind as a bat here."

"Darkness," Ezio said gravely. "Desmond?"

Desmond's dark vision was still perfect, and it was honestly like seeing in dim daylight. It was really cool. He looked at the others, who while not scared of the dark, were plenty wary. But Desmond could see, and he could see there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just a big room, flat, with strange mounds along the edges, all in the black substance the rest of the temples were made out of, only this didn't reflect light.

"Hello?" he called, turning away from them and cupping his hands to his mouth. Nothing happened.

"Desmond what are you doing?"

"Hello," Desmond just called again, "I know you can hear me and just ignoring me. Don't do that."

"Desmond what are you doing?"

"Getting the A.I.'s attention," Desmond shot them a rueful smirk. "Do I need to say some magic password? Cause I don't know it."

Suddenly the house lights came up, slowly fading brighter. "My," said a deep voice, "aren't you something else?" and the hologram flickered into sight.

"There you are," Desmond turned around to meet them. This hologram was another man, his hair was short, black, and wild and he wore no headdress. He wore dark pants and a deep gray shirt, both articles of clothing were tight to the body, and like Venus had his feet on the floor, they were bare. His eyes were an unreal yellow color. "Well, lets have your name then."

"You came all this way and you don't even know my name?" they asked.

"Yes. Now lets have it."

"Why should I tell you?"

Desmond looked at the others, they had their lamps off and were giving him the same look back. He needed to do this on his own, as they were just as confused. "You're supposed to help me," Desmond said.

"And I told you this?" they asked him.

"Venus told me this."

"And she's a reliable source that one?"

"I think so, yeah," Desmond nodded.

"Well Venus is always right then?"

"Would you just give me a straight answer already," this was becoming annoying.

"Why?"

"Uhg. Clearly this was a bad idea. You're just as annoying as every other proeathan A.I. I've ever met," Desmond groaned.

"Maybe you should ask some better questions?" they said.

"I just want to know your name."

"Why?"

"Ahg!" and Desmond had to look away and back at the others. "I'm not crazy right? He's deflecting."

"He is," Altair agreed.

"No, I don't think so," Hawk said.

"Huh?"

"You haven't asked him a real single question yet, and he answers all your statements with a question. Venus has weird, programmed rules too. I had to override them to get a lot done at first. But this could be something like that. You have to go along with his rules at first."

"So what are his rules?" Desmond asked.

"Well, he answers all your statements with questions. So why not ask questions?" Hawk supplied.

"Okay…" that didn't sound  _too_  difficult. Desmond turned back to the hologram. "Who are you?" very obvious question.

"I was wondering when you would get it," the hologram said in his deep voice, "I am Morpheus."

"God of sleep," Jake said.

"Am I now?" Morpheus asked Jake, head tipped in a strange, bird-like, way.

"According to us yeah."

"So were we right in that humans actually are stupid?"

"Hey!" Jake cried and looked like he wanted a piece of the hologram. Altair put a hand on his shoulder. Desmond just chuckled and turned back to Morpheus.

"Can you help me?" Desmond asked.

"I would like to, that is why Venus sent you here after all. Or so I assume, one can never be sure with her, she's a bit out there," Morpheus seemed greatly resigned by this fact.

"What is this place anyway?" Desmond asked. "What are you?"

"What?" Ezio asked.

Morpheus knew what he was talking about though, "I am an astronomer," he said. "The best there was, before the Cataclysm.  _This_  is my observatory."

"So all those shapes in the foyer-

"Rather pretty isn't it?"

"Very," Desmond agreed.

"Oi, Desmond, ask some interesting questions," Ezio said.

"Hey, when the highly advanced proeathan A.I. is nice to you for the first time I'll let  _you_  ask the questions pretty boy," Desmond said pointing a finger at him. He heard, more then saw, Ezio roll his eyes.

"Did you want to ask me something else?" Morpheus asked.

"If you're an astronomer, you're probably good at reading maps, right?"

"I am an excellent map reader," Morpheus agreed.

"Can you read this map?" and Desmond took off his glove. The glowing has settled to lower and he couldn't feel any of the rolling sensation anymore.

"I believe so," he said, "Venus said it was a map?" now he was the one asking a question.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It is, isn't it?"

Morpheus looked at him, "Yes," he said and stepped closer to him. Up closer he was about the same height as Desmond and the bands of light that made him up were distorted at this distance. "Is it elsewhere?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Arms, chest, lower parts of my legs."

Morpheus was silent for several moments, looking like he was thinking. "Will you take off your shirt?"

"Desmond I don't think-"

But Desmond wasn't paying attention to whichever ancestor was speaking. He was busy unzipping his coat, letting it drop to the floor and then following it up with his long sleeved shirt, another shirt under that and then finally the black under armor he wore. He tugged his gloves off too and stood in the middle of the room naked from the waist up. His skin rose in goosebumps at the sudden chill, but it felt good too.

He heard the others talking behind him quietly, he wasn't paying attention though. "What is it?" Desmond asked the hologram. "Can you read it?"

"Yes," Morpheus said, though there was an edge to his voice Desmond couldn't quite decide on. "Very interesting," and he walked all around Desmond. "No wonder my brothers want you so badly," he had a funny grin on his face as he came back around to Desmond's front, "We'll just have to make sure they don't get it won't we?" and Desmond smiled back at him.

"So, I have a question, if that's cool?" Hawk suddenly asked.

"You may," Morpheus said dully, still walking around Desmond.

"How do we know we can trust you?"

Morpheus looked up, "You don't," was all he said. "But I know you trust Venus, and she's my sister-

"Literally?" Jake asked.

"No you idiot," Morpheus  _clearly_  didn't like Jake and Jake glowered at him.

"What do you mean by sister then? And you called the other proeathans brothers. Explain please?" Altair said, sounding like he'd tacked on the 'please' so it sounded more like a proper question.

A sudden globe appeared in the space above them. It was made of red light, with sixteen dots on it, golden lines in the sky above , above their heads, were the constellations Desmond had seen in the foyer. "There are sixteen of us," he said. "One for each constellation. You call me the god of sleep, Morpheus was the name of a constellation in my time," the said constellation appeared in front of them. It used the belt of Orion but didn't connect with the same stars as Orion and it looked more like a wide bowl, the three stars of Orion's belt being the base. "Morpheus was a luck of those born in the winter, and to protect small children from monsters in the darkness," the constellation faded. Desmond got the feeling Morpheus was using each question to explain as much as he could as they didn't ask nearly the right questions but he was expanding the answers to answer the ones they weren't asking.

"So then Morpheus isn't your real name?" Hawk asked.

"Of course not. The name of the stars were forbidden as names for children, because they were lucks. We were given the designations. I was given Morpheus, as Venus was given hers."

"So what's your real name?" Desmond asked.

"I don't remember. They took it from me," he didn't seem upset by this.

"Keep going. How is Venus your sister?" Altair prompted.

"After the Cataclysm we were made, and we were all the same, and knew each other and were family because we were the only ones of our kind. And then we went to sleep, waiting to be woken for whatever happened in the experiment; except for a few. Venus, Demeter, Minerva, Juno, they all stayed awake, and they watched you humans for millennia. Some with more attention than others. Venus loves you, as is her nature. Demeter has her duty, she doesn't care. Minerva thinks you're failures, and Juno takes simple delight in watching you all fall apart. My siblings aren't very nice you'll have noticed."

"Totally, didn't," Desmond said sarcastically.

"Five years ago, the rest of us woke, because of you," Morpheus looked at Desmond. "You reset  _everything_. They weren't counting on that," he added thoughtfully. Then he seemed to put his fingers on Desmond's chest and moved it. A representation of the geometry went with his hand and it curved. "Huh," he said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"I'm not sure," he said.

"What else?" Hawk prompted.

"When we woke most of us had no idea what was going on. Pluto was the first to wake. We woke shortly after and tried to figure out what had happened. Five years and we're now two sides instead of one family, though they're still my siblings, and I still love them. Though I have a feeling that the sentiment is not mutual from the other side. One side wants you," he looked at Desmond, "The other side, my side, wants you to be free."

"So wait… you're saying that there's a rebellion amid you guys?" Altair asked.

"In a sense, yes. The majority are sticking with our people. But some of us do find you primitives endearing," he smiled at them and Desmond wasn't sure if it was nice or not.

"So who're our allies?" Altair asked.

"Myself, Venus, Mercury, Artemis, Demeter, Hera, and Pluto-

"No way!" Desmond cried. "That guy hates me."

"He does?" Morpheus cocked his head at Desmond.

"Doesn't he?"

"That was not the impression I got. You impressed him. And trust me when I tell you, Pluto is not easily impressed. He was the one who did not tell our masters of your resistance. He wanted you to have something," Morpheus looked at Desmond sadly, apologetically and Desmond didn't want to see it.

"So are they good allies?" Altair asked.

"They are competent," Morpheus said. "I know that the other side is wary because of Hera."

"Why?"

Morpheus smiled in a way that reminded Desmond of Altair, "Because Hera is the constellation of the slaughter, and the luck of those born under a red moon."

"Oh…" the look on their faces was… interesting.

"She doesn't like several of those who sided against you humans either, that is why she's with us, and not them."

"So it's a selfish reason then?" Ezio said.

"Of course. We're all doing this for selfish reasons."

"Then what's yours?" Desmond asked.

"Venus promised me I'd get to see something  _amazing_ ," he looked at Desmond, "Don't disappoint me."

"No pressure then," Desmond said sarcastically.

"What fun would it be without some?"

"So what is that?" he continued and pointed at the ball Morpheus had made the geometry on his body become.

"It is incomplete, I couldn't tell you. It is  _very_  interesting though."

"Okay. How do I complete it?" Desmond sighed.

"Not my department," Morpheus said. "I am an astronomer. I am not a map maker."

"Okay. So who should we go see?"

"Normally I would tell you Saturn, but he has taken a special interest in eradicating you all from the face of the earth-

"Oh lovely," Ezio groused.

"So I would suggest Demeter, or Hera actually."

"But you said Hera is related to slaughter. Wouldn't she kill us?"

"No. She's quite a nice lady actually. Has a bit of a temper, but she wouldn't kill you… unless you made her angry of course."

"Okay… so where is she?"

"Hmmm," Morpheus turned to the globe that was still in the sky above them. "Here is her place," he pointed at somewhere in Spain, latitude and longitude suddenly sprang up. He heard someone busily write them down. "You people built a rather impressive church over it," he added, "she was extremely pleased when she found out."

"Why?"

"Because, like all of us, she is more than just her programming. She was once our high priestess. Her place is a temple. A real one, not like how you people call any building of ours you find a temple," he rolled his pale yellow eyes.

"Do you have any other mode other than annoyingly sarcastic?" Jake asked.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Morpheus asked right back.

"Easy there," Altair said, hand on Jake's shoulder.

"Do you have anything to tell us?" Desmond asked.

"I can only answer questions," Morpheus said.

"What are Hera's rules?" Hawk asked. Good question.

"Don't refer to yourself in the first person. No I, no me, or your name."

"Then what?"

"This one."

"What?" Jake asked.

"He means like 'this one has a question'. Right?" Desmond asked.

"Correct. I'm so glad you're smart," Morpheus told him. Desmond smiled at him.

"So Hera'll be able to tell me how to make the rest of this show up?" Desmond asked.

"I believe so. If not her than Demeter, she's one of the oldest."

"I hate to ask but… what is Demeter?"

"The luck of those born in the summer, and the guardian of poisonous plants."

"Are any of you related to nice things?" Jake asked sarcastically.

"These are night things," Morpheus seemed very confused.

"Poisonous plants, slaughter, protection from monsters, none of them sound very good to me."

"I never said our beliefs were particularly nice did I?"

"…No," Jake agreed.

"So would you please refrain from speaking again? Perhaps the shorter one could get you a muzzle?"

"Easy," Altair was clearly gripping Jake's shoulder enough to hurt as Jake wasn't moving.

"So someone got the coordinates for Hera?" Desmond asked them.

"Got it," Hawk said.

"We can get directions to Demeter from Hera if it doesn't work out, right?" Desmond asked Morpheus.

"Yes."

"Okay. Is that it?" he asked the others again. They nodded. They didn't have any more questions really. "Oh, wait, I have two."

"They are?" Morpheus asked.

"Why's this showing up now?"

"I couldn't tell you," Morpheus confessed, "Hera may know more. She's steeped in our lore."

"Okay. And the other is. You said you're named after your constellations. But there are sixteen of you; there are seventeen constellations. Where's the seventeenth?"

Morpheus' face grew dark. "Sixteen is a lucky number. Seventeen is the most unlucky. The seventeenth is the Unnamed," it appeared in front of them. It was a collection of five stars that were all connected to a central star. "There is no seventeen because seventeen is unlucky."

"What is the Unnamed?" Desmond asked.

"It is absolute, and total, destruction of all things. It is our reckoning, and our apocalypse. We thought it was what happened during the Cataclysm, but it was not. It has yet to happen. It will one day, but we're not sure when," and he gave Desmond a very strange look. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it honestly.

"Heavy stuff." Morpheus said nothing. "Well, that's all. Thank you for actually being helpful. You do want to, right?"

"Yes. You're welcome," Morpheus said and Desmond pulled his clothes back on.

"Open the door for us?"

"Next time, just take the back entrance. I rarely use that front door," Morpheus sighed and a ring appeared on the ground. "Go on," he shooed them and the four of them went and stood in it.

A moment later they were someplace else entirely. Desmond looked up and knew where they were instantly. "That's cool," he declared.

"Yeah it was," Hawk agreed enthusiastically, no doubt geeking out over the fact that they'd just been transported instantly from one place to another.

"We're in the Dome of the Rock," Altair said.

"Well good. That saved us some time," Desmond said. They were actually standing  _on_  the rock itself. A circle had burned itself onto the top of the rock.

"Some back door," Ezio huffed.

"All right, lets get back home. We need to plan this trip to Spain," Altair said, and walked to the edge of the rock and jumped off onto the ground. The others followed.


	13. Birds Know

It was a quiet trip back to the house, everyone thinking the things they needed to think about. Desmond was still sort of impressed by what his eyes were doing. Normally his night vision was pretty much… hyper sensitive not just in color but like _more_ than color, like he could see more than just the colors he could see normally. But up until recently it was only at night.

Now as he walked behind the others he could see like that, in the day light. Everything was hyper sharp and saturated and clear, perfectly clear. Honestly his eyesight had never been better and Desmond has twenty-twenty vision. It was also really hard to explain, like trying to explain to someone what a color looked like, or what music sounded like. It was nearly impossible. He still saw darkness and shadows and they still obstructed his sight, but like someone had pushed the contrast up on a photograph just because they were there didn’t mean he couldn’t see what they hid.

When they arrived back at the house Hawk projected a map from his computer to a wall. First it was global, then he shifted it so that it zoomed in to their part of the world.

“So what’s the plan?” Jake asked, having gotten one of his bags and rifling through it as he sat on the floor next to Desmond.

“Well, we need to get to Spain,” Altair said and Hawk made the screen move to their destination, a southern part of Spain that hung over Morocco and was nearly right over the Straits of Gibraltar, a green dot was on the correct coordinate. “We have two options, around,” and projection on the wall zoomed out to show the Mediterranean and a yellow path that was their route, going norther back into Syria and Turkey, cutting across Greece and over the top of Italy and then int France, following the coast into Spain and down to their green dot.

“Pretty far,” Ezio said, he was sitting backwards in chair.

“It is,” Hawk said, and some figures appeared on the screen. “It’ll take us about three weeks, in a car only a few days but our top speed is a bit faster than a horse at full sprint. So let’s just say three or four weeks, even then that’s if we don’t go full on, every day.”

“There’s another way,” Altair said.

“Faster too,” Hawk said. “Well really this is the fastest,” and a pretty much straight line appeared between Jerusalem and their dot, cutting through the Mediterranean. “But, can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Desmond asked.

“The proeathans have the coasts lined with Eden Eyes, to make sure that people A. don’t fish the seas and B. don’t travel by boat because boats are a lot harder to track than humans on the ground. Not entirely sure why,” he said thoughtfully.

“So what’s the other route?” Desmond asked and looked over at Jake who was eating some jerky. When he saw Desmond looking he offered him a piece. Desmond took it and gnawed on it.

“Along the southern coast,” Altair said and the line changed again.

“Two weeks, probably less,” Hawk said. “Northern route is also full of mountains, not to mention the ones just to get into Spain. African coast is pretty flat.”

“We’re still going on water,” Desmond noted.

“Yeah,” Hawk nodded. “The proeathans have the Straits pretty much locked down and heavily patrolled so people can’t slip through and try to find places to go, or America, which is just a crap shoot as this side of the world, only there are fewer proeathan bases there than here. So we’ll leave from, probably Algeria or so and scoot across to Spain, and then it’s just a hop skip and a jump to Córdoba, our destination.”

“Two weeks?” Ezio asked.

“Yeap,” Hawk nodded.

“How are we going to get from Algeria to Spain though?” Desmond asked.

“There are boats all over the place, unused, neglected after five years. Still plenty in dry docks though. We just have to get one, get it in the water, and go,” Hawk said.

“What about the ATVs?” Jake asked now.

“Maybe we’ll give them to some freemen we find,” Hawk shrugged.

“What about the rest of the way to Córdoba though?” Desmond asked, eyeing the bit of the trek through the Spanish countryside.

“Won’t take too long. We can find a car. Plenty of those,” Hawk assured him. “All of us know how to hot-wire a car after all.”

“I don’t,” Jake said helpfully.

The others looked at him, Hawk rolled his eyes, “Okay everyone _except_ Jake knows how to hot-wire a car.”

“I love how you assume I do,” Desmond said, amused.

“August third two-thousand and three,” Ezio said boredly.

Desmond blinked, “…okay, _how_ do you know that?”

“We know everything,” Ezio said. “You think we just let you wander around without someone?”

“… You’ve been _following_ me?”

“We were usually the reason you got nervous and ran. Hawk lost you in Denver that one time,” Ezio said thoughtfully.

“I had altitude sickness, screw you,” Hawk growled at Ezio.

Desmond was quiet for a moment, “Well that isn’t just a bit creepy,” he said. “You’ve basically been stalking me my entire life.”

“Only once you left the Farm,” Ezio said. “And nothing nearly that weird. We’d just…

“Check up on you every few months,” Altair said. “At least until Abstergo took interest in you,” Desmond frowned at that.

“Uhg, you’re all so weird.”

“Would you like to know other creepy things about us?” Hawk asked.

“No, god… you three are so weird. Personal boundaries much.”

“I’m nine hundred years old. I don’t have those,” Altair said dryly.

“You’re the worst offender too,” Desmond informed him.

“Hey. Have some respect, I was there when you were born,” Altair said right back.

Jake looked at Altair now, jerky hanging out of his mouth, “Like… in the hospital room?”

“Jake, _why_ do you want to know that?” Desmond asked.

“I’m curious okay! Fuck off,” Jake grumbled.

“No, not in the hospital room,” Altair rolled his eyes.

“Still wicked creepy Altair,” Desmond informed him.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I was there for your brother?”

Desmond said nothing, and neither did anyone else, Desmond frowned at his ancestor. “Neeeext subject,” Ezio said suddenly. “So when are we leaving? Today, tomorrow morning? When?”

“How much daylight do we have?” Altair asked Hawk who had stopped projecting the map and was looking at his screen, which had fogged up a bit to be easier to see.

“About four hours,” Hawk said.

“Tomorrow morning,” Altair nodded. “So everyone make sure you’re packed up. I want to be in Egypt in a few days as getting across the Nile might prove annoying and we don’t know really what our time table is like.”

“We have a time table?” Jake asked.

“Shut up Jake,” Altair didn’t even look at the New Yorker.

“Okay,” Desmond said, “So, we’ll just get ready for tomorrow then, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ezio said. “You two,” he pointed at Jake and Desmond, “We’re going to train.”

Desmond groaned, Jake groaned louder, “Why?” Jake whined.

“Cause you’ve both been lazy children since we left the safe house,” Ezio said in a sweet voice as he got up from his chair.

“Uhg,” Jake and Desmond said in stereo. Ezio laughed at them and herded them out of the house to probably go beat each other up for a while before making them run around and build up a sweat. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

—

He was in a jungle hanging from a tree on limbs that were both his and not his. They were long, muscular and when he looked up saw they were covered in coarse black fur. He tilted his head at them, like he’d never seen them before and lowered one hand to look at it better, his other arm effortlessly holding him up. Which somehow he knew was wrong. He didn’t have the actual upper body strength to hold himself up.

He looked up when his sharp ears caught a noise he wasn’t familiar with and he smelled something metallic, like blood, but stronger. He grabbed the branch and pulled himself up onto it, his dexterous hands and feet keeping him stable and secure.

The smell and sound left and he looked up, the sky was dark with rain clouds. Some part of his animal mind told him it shouldn’t rain now, he would have sensed it, but he didn’t. But now he did of course and he could hear the other animals in the jungle scurrying for cover. He did not though, he wasn’t afraid of the rain, it was only water, and he knew it shouldn’t rain. It wouldn’t rain, they were only clouds.

He swung under the branch again and then dropped, he hit another branch and dropped again to another, and a few more till he hit the ground with a thud. He stood on his back legs, upright, and it felt strange and he couldn’t really walk without waddling. So he dropped to all fours and it was easier.

The little creatures of the jungle were all in hiding from the storm he knew wouldn’t come as he walked along the forest floor. He came to a pond and looked across it. The water was still and flat, he walked up to it and looked in. He blinked several times.

Desmond stared back at himself, cognition triggered and he was just… confused. That was him, in the water, looking back at him, but he was also here. “Seeing yourself for the first time is quite a thing, isn’t it?” he jerked his head up to look and the strangest creature ever was sitting beside him, they were hairless and black and pale with black hair on their head and the strangest face with no nose or snout. “It’s said to be the first steps to sentience, recognizing your reflection,” they said and he didn’t know how to was understanding the strange creature.

“But, you know,” they reached out, touched his face, made him look back at the water. “We both have stories of how our reflection isn’t just your reflection, and something lurks behind it.” He looked at the strange thing talking then back to his reflection and reached out to disturb the surface of the water because it was just water. There was nothing behind it. As his fingers were about to touch the surface another hand shot out of the water and grabbed his wrist. He screamed the scream of a frightened animal.

—

Desmond woke with a start. His eyes hard to open, but coming open in a flash. He hadn’t thrashed about or screamed. He’d just… just what?

Had a fucking nightmare was what?

Slowly he sat up in his sleeping bag where he slept between Jake and Hawk. Altair was sitting just outside the room on a comfortable chair, doing his not sleeping not awake thing. It was light out, good enough time to get up. He shrugged out of his sleeping bag and dressed quickly as Ezio was waking up, yawning louder than he had to, but also probably to wake Hawk and Jake. He assumed he was right since Jake and Hawk woke.

“Uhg, it feels like the nights are always too short,” Jake groaned. “Five years of this and I’m _still_ not a morning person,” and he rolled out of his sleeping bag.

“You’ll get used to it,” Ezio said.

“When this is over I’m sleeping to however late I want,” Jake informed him, starting to dress again.

“You do that,” Ezio chuckled. The others dressed, they had a cold breakfast and then went out to the ATVs.

“How’d you sleep?” Hawk asked Desmond as he was putting on his goggles.

“Why?” Desmond asked right back, switching the ATV on.

“I woke up once, you were making funky noises.”

“Like… more than usual?” he needed to check.

“Less than usual I guess,” Hawk said.

“I just had a _really_ weird dream.”

“Like proeathan weird?” Ezio asked, overhearing.

“No,” Desmond shook his head. “Just a normal weird sort of dream,” he said.

“That’s good,” Hawk said.

“I guess,” Desmond frowned.

“No, it is good,” Hawk said nodding.

“Okay Hawk,” better to just agree honestly.

“We ready to go?” Altair called.

“Yeap, lead the way,” Ezio said. Altair put his ATV in gear and started off, they went in a line behind him Desmond second to last.


	14. The Madness of Flying

They made it to Egypt in good time, only a few days, and crossed the Nile closer to the mouth. Because it was nearing winter the great river was lower than usual. There were no bridges that spanned the Nile but Hawk and Altair got an old ferry to work. That had taken a few days of work, as the ferry hadn’t been used in five years but it was sea worthy and once in the water they’d made it across the Nile in short time.

Now they were going along the coast, and had entered Alexandria the night before. It wasn’t snowing here and the wind off the sea was rather warm. Desmond liked it and kept watch that night, since it was Altair’s night to sleep. Alexandria smelled like the sea, Desmond had always liked that smell though he knew lots of people found the smell of the ocean to be disgusting, and complained about it. He’d always loved the oceans though and was pretty sure that in some past life, or maybe some future life, he was supposed to be a fisherman, or live close to the sea.

The sun rose over the ancient city of Alexandria and he heard the others wake, Altair first, then Ezio, who’s general being awake presence woke both Hawk and Jake. Altair could wake and live without disturbing a soul, it was his nature. To be without disrupting the world. Ezio’s entire entity was disruption, Desmond thought they were nice counterparts and compliments to each other.

They ate breakfast quietly, trading few words, they were good at this now, knew what they needed to do in the morning to get ready and didn’t need to speak. Hawk and Altair talked, discussing their journey for the day, and Desmond tied his bags down to the back of the ATV. As he did he looked up, down the street. A person was standing there and they looked familiar for some reason, though were too far away for him to make out easily.

“Hey,” he said to Jake.

“Hmm?” Jake was securing his own bags.

“Look,” he pointed but the figure was already gone.

“What am I looking at?” Jake asked.

“There was someone there a second ago,” Desmond said.

Jake chuckled, “You’re seeing things.”

Desmond stared at him, “Don’t even joke about that,” he said seriously.

“Right, shit. Sorry,” he said

“There _was_ someone there,” Desmond insisted.

“Well I didn’t see anyone,” Jake said.

“I’m ganna go look. I’ll be right back,” he promised.

“Don’t get too far, I don’t fancy dealing with a pissed off Altair if you wander,” Jake said with a huff.

“I’ll be right back,” Desmond said and quickly finished tying his bags down and jogged down the street to where he’d seen the figure where the streets made a T shape. He looked down both ways. Left; nothing, right; nothing, left again; a figure had seemed to materialize. They were just far enough away to make it hard to see their features, but they were male he knew that much, and looked bulky in their coat for the cool Alexandria morning. Desmond cocked his head at them, they mimicked him, like a mirror. “Hey,” he said and went towards them. They turned away from him and started to walk as he walked. Frowning he started to walk faster, so did they. 

They took a turn, Desmond followed and before Desmond realized he was running after them. But they were just as fast as he was and he could never seem to catch up with them. There was something familiar about them and he wanted to see their face. But he couldn’t catch them.

All at once he was alone. He rounded a corner and the man he’d been chasing was gone. Panting he stared around, trying to find them. He went into Eagle Vision, there… was no trail. Just none. That was impossible. Desmond felt dread creep into his chest. What if he _had_ imagined it? What if it was just a trick of his mind and really, no one had been there? What if he was chasing phantoms again?

Desmond’s breathing became more labored as he felt panic rise up his throat. No. This couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t be Bleeding again. He leaned against the nearest building, sucking in deep, lungfuls of air, too terrified to actually take another step. 

He was fine.

That was what he told himself even as he slid to the ground, hyperventilating. All he could think was that he was relapsing. He was relapsing and when he looked up and around he realized he was lost meaning he was alone, so none of his ancestors could help him. Just thinking it made him unbearably sick, like he wanted to throw up. It wasn’t being lost, or alone, that freaked him out. It was that whatever Altair had done was _breaking_.

Desmond put his head between his knees, hands on the back of his neck. No. No he was fine. He wasn’t having a relapse, he wasn’t Bleeding. He was okay. He needed to calm down, he needed to breathe. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. He wasn’t going to Bleed through, he wasn’t. He was still him, he was still alive and there was no one else in here, just him.

Just him.

Right?

Right?!

Thinking about it made him unsure. He could remember being in Acre during the twelfth century, hunting Templars across rooftops, scaring birds and flinging knives with such accuracy his targets didn’t get back up. He could remember leaping up the stairs of Monteriggioni’s manor, going to see his mama who he hadn’t seen in so many months and Rosa had promised divine punishment if he didn’t go rest, see his family. So many deaths at his hands, flickering past in a flash of steel and how easy it was. So easy, to just… kill.

Desmond was trembling, gripping his knees so hard they hurt and doing his best to just hold it together. To not let Altair or Ezio slip through because if he did who knew who else would shove themselves through that hole they left. Maybe Hawk would, or his other ancestors. He remembered waking up from his coma, years ago now, knowing who he was. But it hadn’t lasted. By the time Altair had found him had been when he’d been starting to slip again, his mind falling apart again as the Bleed terrorized his mind.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that, breath shaking out of him, so scared. Balanced on a needle tip, his fragile psyche playing acrobat against a thin line he couldn’t see, like tight rope walking on spider silk.

Where were the others?

The thought hit him pointedly. They should have come looking for him by now. He looked up and saw the sun was high in the sky now. They should have come, if nothing else Hawk could scry him, find him. Something was wrong, he could feel it. It was something he could feel in his bones and it did _nothing_ to calm down him down when he was already freaking out.

Desmond grabbed at the wall and pulled himself up so he was standing. He needed to find the others. They’d tell him if he was okay, if he was going crazy and seeing things again, or if he was okay. He didn’t think he was, because when he walked the old streets of Alexandria he kept seeing other places, other times, Acre, Damascus, Masyaf, Constantinople. It made him dizzy and feel sick. He didn’t want to move anymore, he just wanted to lay down and sleep and never wake up. He knew it could get cold, even this far south, and winter was still coming. Maybe he could just sleep and never wake up.

He made it to the end of the street and looked down the intersection. There was no one. He frowned and slid down to the ground. He didn’t want to move anymore, now he _knew_ he was seeing things because a cat walked up to him with eyes like his brother’s when he’d been eight and went into his room and seen him on his bed. Blood dripping off his fingers. Desmond had screamed a scream enough to wake the dead and brought the entire Farm into their house, so loud it had even roused his mother, who didn’t leave her bedroom. It had been one of the few times she’d held him, carrying him out of the room as men rushed into the house. It made it hard to breathe, looking at that cat, then he blinked and it was gone. 

His breath rattled out of him like he had fluid in his lungs. He remembered that, he knew that feeling. He’d died in a Vatican, Rodrigo had stabbed him. Or he’d thought he’d died, there had been a skip in the Animus of several hours between him falling to the ground and then getting up again to go hunt him down. He knew what fluid in his lungs felt like, tasted like.

The panic passed with the hours, he didn’t move though, afraid he couldn’t, because he just kept shaking. Eventually though it slid away, he wasn’t in a state of panic and shock any more but he still didn’t move. It felt like something was crawling up his pant leg like a spider, only huge and constant, so maybe more like a snake. But there were no animals here. The cat hadn’t been real and he hadn’t seen any wild dogs.

Carefully he rolled up his pant leg. The glyphs covered his feet and had been moving up his leg, though stopped several inches above the ankle. Desmond’s eyes widened at what he was looking at though. Slowly, like a slowly climbing smoke, a line drew itself upwards on his calf. It was higher now then it had been, now closer to his knee than his ankle.

The light licked up his leg in a crawl, slowly twisting into a new glyph, a sort of square shape with a circle inside it and rays cutting the circle into slices, breaking all the sides of the square and ended on open skin, blazing white before settling to a ‘normal’ teal. He watched another one form, this one some sort of organic line, hooked at the end.

He started when he heard a noise, taken away from watching the strange markings. There, down the street, was a group of people. But not the ones he was looking for.


	15. Wading Egret

Desmond struggled to his feet, if he needed to he’d fight, but really he was prepared to run. He wasn’t in the best mental state right now, he could do something good, or something absolutely awful. He could do good, and run, or they could push him and he’d kill them all. He knew he could too, if they attacked him he’d slaughter them. He favored the subtle catch of is hidden blade, tucked up safe inside his sleeve and checked for a place to run as they slowly came towards him. They didn’t _seem_ dangerous, but then neither had those college kids in Russia until they’d broken out the kitchen knives, or the man who’d killed Ezio over a deer.

“Hey,” they called to him in Arabic, okay at least he could understand them. Not like in Russia, he would have benefitted from knowing some Russian like Altair, Ezio and Jake all did.

“I don’t want to fight,” Desmond said, planting his feet, waiting to see if they’d jump him. He was still a bit wobbly from his serious panic attack but he could run and there were ledges everywhere he could pul himself up to to get on high ground and lose them on the roofs.

“Nor us,” one said and sounded greatly relieved. The small party came up to him, but not too close. Good, Desmond didn’t want them too close either. There were seven or eight of them or mixed gender. He saw at least three women amid their group in hijabs, and one child, who barely looked over five. He’d probably been born just before or after Desmond had started this whole mess. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” one of the men asked, the eldest, he wore a dirty turban and like the other’s his face was streaked with dirt.

“I’m Desmond,” he swallowed, “I’m got separated from my friends. We’re just passing through,” he promised.

The older man eyed him shrewdly, “You are an American,” he said.

“I am,” Desmond said, hands still slightly raised to show no ill will.

“They said the Americans did this,” one of the younger men, younger than Desmond, spat and then spit at him.

“Rashid, no,” the older man scolded him. “We do not know what happened, or if it was the Americans. Do not place blame on an innocent,” and the old man smiled at Desmond. His teeth were white against his dark skin.

“Thank you,” Desmond said.

“We are still all one people, just as Muhammed preached,” the older man said sagely. Desmond couldn’t help it, he switched into Eagle Vision, just to see. Only for an instant. The old man shown in the clearest blue, the ones behind him were drab and gray. Desmond smiled slightly.

“Praise be to him,” Desmond said, dipping his head a little, “and to you.”

“Where are you going?” the old man asked. “We are passing through as well.”

“Algeria,” Desmond said.

“Ah,” the man nodded slowly, “We are for Cairo.”

“Be careful,” Desmond advised, “We passed by Cairo. It is safer to go deeper into the continent.”

The man shook his head, “Do you not know?” he asked.

Desmond felt a sense of dread fill him, “Know what?”

“The inner continent is much more dangerous. If they find you outside their fences they’ll capture you, they make you work for the rest of your life, enslaved at their farms,” Desmond went dead white. “It is like how you Americans used to do many years ago, making people work until death on farms.”

“No,” Desmond whispered and felt ill. He could imagine it. Growing up every child had seen images of colonial plantations, even him in their specially filtered history lessons taught at the farms. He’d seen the movies, read the books, knew the history. Plantations were awful things and the proeathans were doing _that_ to the entire human race.

“I am afraid so,” the man said gravely.

“What else have you heard?” Desmond asked. The others hadn’t told him this. “We’ve been hiding until now, far from the world. We- _I_ don’t know what happened.”

The man frowned. “That the straits of Gibraltar have a great chain across them to stop people from getting out and that flying machines, not planes or helicopters, patrol the coasts of Africa and Europe. If you don’t get put to work in a plantation you are sent to the mines, or a factory, or a lab and they experiment on you.” Desmond felt sick. “I’ve only heard of the labs from others, I don’t know if they’re real,” Desmond didn’t doubt for a second they were,“but one of my brothers was taken to a mine, my sister to a factory, all of my daughters and sons to the plantations.”

“How did you escape?” Desmond asked.

“I don’t know. Allah was looking out for me I suppose,” though he didn’t seem happy about it. Desmond didn’t blame him, he’d lost his entire family to the proeathans. This man’s entire family were now in slavery and possibly dead, because of Desmond. Because he’d done exactly what he was supposed to do and exactly what they’d wanted and hadn’t know better and had walked right into it. The guilt was crushing.

“Well these people are lucky to have you,” he told him.

He chuckled, “Thank you young man. Would you like to come with us?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I… need to find my friends.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “I wish you luck,” he said.

“And you as well,” Desmond said, “Be careful.”

“Thank you,” he smiled a little and then the old man and his group left, walking down the street Desmond had just come from. Desmond watched them and it all felt sort of surreal then he turned away. He needed to find a place the others could find him. He faced the wall and then started to climb up. 

He felt better as he climbed and on the roof of the building he felt all his earlier panic and fear wash out of him. Up here it was familiar. Being an Assassin during his ancestors’ time was like playing the world’s deadliest game of ‘the floor is lava’ because on the ground you were vulnerable and could be swarmed by guards. Up here Desmond felt safe and sure and the things down on the ground couldn’t touch him. There was haze out on the port and Desmond thought he saw something, a _big_ something. But when he looked harder it was gone. He reminded himself to breathe. He was fine. It was literally just a trick, he wasn’t Bleeding. He scanned the rooftops of the city carefully, looking for a place. Before, when they were separated they were to go to a restaurant. But that had been before and now they never let him wander alone; too dangerous. He was alone now though. He could think of nothing but find one, but where? It couldn’t just be ant restaurant.

Desmond started off in a random direction, heading towards the taller, modern, buildings. The rooftops flew by beneath him as he ran, leaving his panic behind him. He couldn’t dwell on it. Though now and then, as he ran, he thought he saw something in the haze over the water of the port to his left, like a huge whale swimming within the fog. Whenever he looked though it was gone. It was nothing, just a normal trick of the eye.

It felt like he’d run across the entire city before he stopped and dropped down to the ground. Here everything was both clean and destroyed horrifically. The tall buildings still stood but windows had shattered and fallen from the buildings, there was garbage everywhere and cars and buses and piled up in the street like children’s toys. He spun in a slow circle, looking around at everything, knowing he needed to find a good place to wait for the others.

As he came around to a stop he froze. At the end of the block a pack of dogs appeared. They weren’t all the same breed, in fact he saw a few shitty purse dogs in their number. But they were _all_ feral and clearly he was prey. He took a slow step back. One of the bigger dogs growled at him, it looked like a german shepard. He took another step back and then turned and ran for all he was worth. With a snarl that turned his blood cold the dogs chased him.

He sprinted down the street and took the turn so fast he almost lost his footing. But he scrambled around the corner and ran for all he was worth. He needed to find a place to get away. There wasn’t a lot to be found though. Most everything had been destroyed or bent and he was in the modern district, meaning there wasn’t much to climb easily like in the historic and poor areas. So all he could do right now was _run_ , and run he did.

Then he came into a park. A park with _trees_. He was up the nearest tree in the time it took to think. The dogs were at the trunk only a few seconds later, howling and jumping, snapping their jaws at his heels. He just climbed and got to a safe distance above them. They barked and howled and clawed at the tree, trying to get him and Desmond just brought his knees up to his chest, looking down. He was so fucked. He could tell my looking at them this pack was starving, and could see rib bones pushing against their skin. They wouldn’t just leave him, they’d wait him out, even if one of them starved, they’d wait him out and once he had to get down they’d kill him, and eat him.

There were fewer more awful ways to die than that. He knew. He’d lost count of the times he’d desynced as Altair or Ezio because he’d died in some horrifically stupid way. Once a pot had actually fallen on his head. Shaun had made fun of him for that, but then that was pretty ridiculous and a freak accident. When Desmond _did_ die normally in the Animus most of the time it was through hitting the ground too hard _or_ getting stabbed. He’d take hitting the ground or stabbed over eaten by wild dogs though. He’d take it any day of the week.

So he just… stayed up there. There wasn’t anything else he could do and the next closest tree was too far to jump. There looked like there had been another one, closer, at some point, but it had been toppled and now was just on the ground.

Up there he stayed, for a while too, hoping the dogs would leave but knowing they wouldn’t. They were hungry. His stomach decided it was going to rumble at that moment. He was hungry too. With a groan he pressed his face into his knees.

Time passed. The barking stopped, but the dogs continued to sit around the bottom of the tree, the weaker ones sitting, others pacing, clear that there was something in that tree they wanted. Desmond had started to just ignore them and was deciding how many he could kill before being mauled when one suddenly yelped. The yelp of a dog dying.

Desmond looked down sharply and saw a gleaming white cane sticking out of one of the dog’s stomach like it had been thrown like a javelin. Desmond recognized it. It was Hawk’s cane-sword! Hawk was here! The dogs growled at people he couldn’t see and Desmond hoped it was his ancestors. He really, really did. Then another dog died when he was hit in the face by a throwing knife. Ezio, he always did like his throwing knives. Now it was just to see if the dogs were hungry enough to attack now or would leave and come back and eat their dead pack mates later. It was a long silence, but the dogs left. Desmond breathed a sigh of relief. Oh thank _god_. He wasn’t going to be dog food and the others had found him.

He started climbing down the tree. “You okay up there?” he heard Hawk call.

“I am now,” Desmond called back. Climbing down trees was a lot harder than climbing up them.

“You’re lucky we were passing through or you would have been dog chow,” Ezio said now. Desmond heard the slick sound of Hawk withdrawing his cane-sword from the animal. Passing through? Weren’t they looking for him?

“You weren’t looking for me?”

“Why would we be looking for you?” Ezio asked as Desmond jumped down the last few feet.

“Cause I was looking for you,” he said and Ezio and Hawk _stared_ at him.

“That’s-

“I can see that,” Hawk said.

“But he’s-

“I can _see that_.”

“How can he be in two  places at once?”

“What?” Desmond asked.

“You guys take care of the dogs?” he heard Jake yell. They all turned and looked. Jake and Altair were walking towards them, and so was someone who shouldn’t be there. The other group stopped ten feet away, Altair and Jake staring at him. Desmond was staring too, but not at them. “I-is that-

“Yes,” Hawk said.

“Someone want to _tell me_ _what the_ ** _hell_** _is going on_?” Altair suddenly growled.

“Yeah. I’m about to _kill_ something,” Desmond growled and unsheathed his hidden blade. Before the others could stop him he surged forward towards the person who was with Jake and Altair. The person who had his clothes, his build, _his face_. So many people were going to pay for making another version of _him_.


	16. And the Bird Swallowed the Whale

Desmond was literally three inches from burying his hidden blade into the other guy’s throat when something grabbed him by _his_ throat and in less time for him to realize what was going on he was being pushed back and slammed into the ground. All the wind rushed out of him and he blacked out for a few seconds when his head hit the ground. He stared up at the sky, which looked a lot more murderous than he remembered, and just managed to suck in a breath, blinking hard once he wasn’t out for those few seconds.

“Off, off,” someone cried and the murderous sky was pushed away. “Save it, and put that away oh my _god_. Lets deal with one crazy psychopath at a time and I _really_ don’t want it to be you.” It took Desmond several seconds to realize the person who was talking was Jake. Probably to Altair, who no doubt was the one who’d slammed him into the ground.

“Okay,” Hawk said, probably the calmest one there as Jake was freaking out about Altair, and Ezio was no doubt having his own personal freak out. “Okay, everyone just… calm down. We _clearly_ have a situation here.”

“I think that’s putting it a bit lightly, don’t you think Hawk?” Jake demanded.

“There are two of them,” Ezio said, like he couldn’t actually believe it.

“Yes, thank you Little Eagle, we can see that. Now, do let the people with brains do the thinking.”

“Shut up Hawk.”

“Right so, _two_ Desmonds,” Hawk said and then appeared over Desmond.

“No,” he groaned. “One Desmond, one body snatcher,” and Hawk helped him to his feet. He swayed a little, that knock on the head hadn’t been fun _in the slightest_.

“Yeah, but who’s who?” Hawk asked.

“I am.”

“No you’re not,” the fake said. Shit it even _sounded_ like him and had his fucked up almost accent like he was trying to have a New York one, a South Dakota one, and a flat American one.

Desmond cocked his head at them, he’d never actually heard his voice like that, “Do I actually sound like that?” Desmond asked, pointing at them.

“Yes,” Jake said.

“Freaky.”

“You’re telling me,” said the fake.

“Stop sounding like me.”

“ _You_ stop sounding like me!” the fake, who Desmond was now simply dubbing D2 in his head because otherwise he got confused, cried.

“Hey, I’m not the freaky clone.”

“I’m not a clone,” D2 said.

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Children!” Ezio suddenly got between them, pushing them apart from where they were inches from each other’s faces looking like they were about to get into a good old fashion fist fight. “Enough,” and he put three feet worth of space between them.

“Someone tell me who’s the real one,” Altair said.

“I am,” Desmond and D2 said at the same time. Altair just looked at them both darkly.

“I can prove it,” Desmond said. “I have the shit on my skin, because of the Animus. This fake here doesn’t.”

“Okay,” Hawk said, it sounded reasonable. “Show us.”

Desmond tugged off his gloves. But hands were bare. He rolled up a sleeve, also bare. “You were saying?” D2 said.

“Like you can do better,” Desmond spat at him. “Go on, if you’re the real one lets see ‘em,” he narrowed his eyes at them.

D2 took off his gloves and exposed his arms. Blank, just like Desmond. “Well, that didn’t work out as planned,” Jake said.

“Shut _up_ Jake,” they said at the same time and then glared at each other.

“Well, they both have an attitude, at least that’s something,” Jake said.

“I just almost got eaten by wild dogs okay?” Desmond demanded. “ _And_ I found out about the plantations,” the others winced. Clearly they hadn’t wanted him to know about that.

“Plantations?” D2 asked, “What plantations?” Desmond told him, because if he was him then he’d be pissed too. “You’re all jerks,” he informed them.

“We didn’t want you to know,” Ezio said. “Bad enough you’re worried about the world as it is. We didn’t want to add the actual horrors of slavery to it.”

“You should have told me,” Desmond said.

“I had a right to know,” D2 added. 

“Are they allowed to gang up on us like this?” Jake asked. “Isn’t one the fake?”

“We’re still the same person,” D2 snapped at him. “And _he’s_ the fake.”

“Fuck you am not.”

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“I am going to punch you in the face,” D2 said.

“And I’d stop you.”

“Could you guys like… not be so close?” Jake asked. They both looked at him. “You look like you’re about to make out.”

“Shut up Jake,” everyone said.

“Ew,” Desmond and D2 added together, looked at each other, grosses out, but did take a step back.

“So, how do we know who’s the real one?” Ezio asked.

“Well, what’s something only the real Desmond would know?” Jake asked.

They all looked at Altair, “What?” he asked.

“What’s something only the real Desmond would know?”

“Why are you asking me? Ask _them_ ,” he pointed at the two of them. They looked at each other.

“I could just beat you to death,” D2 said.

“They’d kill you first,” Desmond said.

“Yeah but it’d be really satisfying to know I killed whatever lab experiment the proeathans had cooked up,” which was funny since _he_ was the lab experiment, not Desmond. “So, what? We both ask each other questions until one of us gets it wrong?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Hawk said. “And _no_ fighting,” he added.

“Okay,” Desmond said. “True or false, my mother loved me.”

“False. Once I went by the name Markus Anthony.”

“True,” Desmond smirked a little.

“Really?” Jake asked.

“Yeap,” Desmond said.

“Uhg, you’re _so lame_ Desmond.”

“Went by Julius Cesare once too,” Desmond said.

“Yes I did,” D2 said. “My turn. I have trust issues.”

“Who doesn’t?” Desmond asked.

“I don’t even trust myself.”

“Not in the slightest,” Desmond agreed. “I’ve wanted to kill myself, since I left the Farm.”

“I always got that awful feeling when Duncan’s anniversary rolled out,” it was an agreement.

“What am I going to do if I ever see Pluto again?”

“Well,” D2 said, “if he was real I’d actually kick him in the nuts. Then maybe turn him off, seems like an appropriate thing to do after what he did to me in that fucking place. Regardless of what side he’s on.”

“I kinda like you,” Desmond said with a slight smirk, his clone mimicked him.

“Feeling isn’t mutual. I plan on killing you when I get a chance.”

“You don’t believe in a thing called love?”

“It’s just not the rhythm of my heart.”

Desmond grinned, “There’s a chance we could make it so.”

“We’ll be at this till the sun comes down,” and then Desmond laughed, loudly.

“What the hell just happened?” Ezio asked as Desmond and his face stealer actually high-fived on that one.

“I think… we just missed Desmond having an in joke with himself,” Jake said.

“So what was that about killing me?” Desmond asked.

“Still want to.”

“Well if it makes you feel better it’d make me feel better if you were dead too.”

“This is _great_ and all,” Altair said. “But we still don’t know who’s the real Desmond,” he didn’t look amused by this.

“Oh, I got it,” Jake suddenly said. “I have a question that could, potentially, tell us who the real one is.”

“And how do you figure that?” Ezio asked.

“You’ll see.”

“Okay… so…?” Ezio didn’t look any less confused.

“What’s my brother’s name?” Jake asked.

“Uh… which one?” Desmond asked awkwardly.

“The recent one.”

“Eugene,” D2 said. Jake didn’t even blink.

They all looked at Desmond. Shit. Had Jake ever told him? He couldn’t remember. Shit he’d forgotten Jake had even _had_ a brother, a modern one. Though older than him. “Uh…” he said awkwardly, “I don’t know,” he confessed.

They all looked at Jake when he said, “I know who the real one is.”

“Who?” Altair asked.

“Eugene was my brother’s name,” Jake said. “I never told Desmond that. Or any of you for that matter.”

“Shit,” D2 said.

“Well,” Altair smiled at the fake, his not nice smile. The ‘I am going to ruin you’ smile. “You got some explaining to do,” and he pushed Desmond away.

“Uh…” D2 said.

“But first,” he grabbed the face snatcher by the chin. “Lets make sure we don’t have his sort of mix up again,” and Desmond was _really_ glad he couldn’t see Altair’s face as he unsheathed his hidden blade. He heard the sound of himself cry out in pain, and winced sympathetically, touching his own face when Altair cut D2 on the mouth, next to his first scar. Not big, but it would leave a mark.

Altair let them go and D2 and they sort of crumpled, but not to the ground, gasping, blood dripping from their face. “Why’d you do that?” they asked him.

“So we know who the real Desmond is. Now,” and Altair unfooted D2. “Who are you? _What_ are you?” Altair wasn’t messing around either and had his hidden blade out.

D2 had his head bowed, then it rolled upward and looked at Altair with a look that looked nothing like Desmond. It was sort of scary, especially with the blood dripping down his chin. “I’m a clone,” he said without emotion. “And my name is Desmond Miles.”

“No it isn’t,” Altair said.

“Yeah, that’s _my_ name,” Desmond said.

“It’s my name too. I am you,” D2 sent Desmond a look.

“What are you doing here?” Altair asked deathly calm, it wasn’t a good tone though.

“I’m a replacement.”

“For what?”

“For him,” he pointed at Desmond.

“Did the proeathans send you?” Altair asked.

“Yes.”

“Quick question,” Jake suddenly said. “Maybe I’ve watched too many movies. But shouldn’t he _not_ be telling us any of this?”

“He’s probably valuable,” Ezio said. “Doesn’t want us to kill him.”

“Or,” Hawk said slowly, “he’s stalling.”

“Would now be a good time to mention I thought I saw something out in the harbor on my way here?” Desmond asked.

“What sort of something?” Hawk asked.

“I dunno. A _big_ something.”

“You,” Altair turned back to D2. “What’s your purpose here?”

“To join your group. It was going so well until Jake said he forgot something and we had to turn back too,” the face stealer sighed.

They all turned to Jake, “That’s right, I forgot,” Ezio said.

“I didn’t actually… forget anything,” Jake said.

“What?”

“I thought Desmond was acting weird okay?”

“He always acts weird,” Hawk said.

“I offered him some jerky when we stopped for lunch. He looked at me like I was _insane_ ,” Jake protested.

“Well you _are_ two fully sentient consciouses,” Hawk said idly, “You are the text book definition of insane.”

“It was just unlike him though. Also, when he joined up with us again before we left he came from a different direction. I dunno it just felt weird so I said I forgot something. Not to mention he isn’t wearing the right clothes.”

“What?” D2 asked, “my clothes are the exact same as his,” he pointed at Desmond.

“Your keepers are behind the times. Desmond wears black out goggles now,” and he pointed at the mirrored ones on D2’s head. 

“… How did you notice that?” Hawk asked.

“Just because I’m not some super special badass doesn’t mean I’m retarded okay? Better question is how did you three _not_ _notice_? You’re so keyed into him at all times I’m surprised you didn’t notice instantly after I took so long to notice,” Jake said and gave them all a look, nearly rolling his eyes.

“Where are your goggles Desmond?” Altair asked. Desmond pulled out his goggles from his jacket pocket, the panes were black, not mirrored. “Well then,” he looked at D2 again. “Your plan backfired. What’s the back up plan?”

“There was none.”

“Don’t lie. You bastards always have a back up plan. And you said you wanted to kill Desmond.”

“Kill is such a… temporary term, don’t you think?” D2 asked and wiped some blood off his chin. “The proeathans wouldn’t have let him really die. They _need_ him.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I was their back up plan, now I’m sitting duck.”

“Which means?”

“You could kill me whenever you wanted.”

“That was never a question of when I could kill you.”

“It’s really weird watching him threaten it,” Desmond told Jake quietly.

“Hmm?” Jake looked at him as Altair demanded something else and was met with just as bland answers.

“It looks like me. It’s like he’s threatening me. It’s a really weird out of body experience, and I’ve had those,” he said.

“Hard to relate. I don’t have a _clone_.”

“Lucky you,” Desmond frowned.

“What were you going to do in our group?” Altair asked.

“Nothing,” D2 said.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“I mean I was going to do nothing. You’re on your way to another base,” then he laughed. “You’d find yourself shit out of luck when I couldn’t do anything and by then he’d be with the proeathans,” D2 looked right at him.

“No I wouldn’t,” Desmond said.

“You don’t get a say. None of us do. You don’t realize what you’re dealing with,” he looked at all of them.

“No, the proeathans don’t know who _they’re_ dealing with,” Altair growled.

D2 leaned back a little from him and swallowed, then he looked at Desmond again. “How do you not always piss yourself when he gets like this?”

“You get used to it,” was Desmond’s answer with a shrug.

“Memories make you a lot less terrifying,” D2 informed Altair.

“Good,” Altair said.

“Altair,” Ezio said.

“Just a second Ezio,” Altair said not looking back at him. “At the temples, what do you mean-

“Altair,” Ezio said again.

“Hold on,” Altair snapped. “What do you mean you’d do-

“Incoming!” Ezio cried and Altair finally looked up. Desmond looked where Ezio was now pointing, as he’d watching his clone.

“Shit,” Hawk said lowly. Coming down the street towards them were what was very clearly a military unit. They were armed, and wore some sort of strange combat armor. “Proeathans.”


	17. Zhuque

“Came to pick me up,” D2 said looking back at his makers, “since I failed. And to pick him up too,” he pointed at Desmond.

“Not on my watch,” Altair said, slowly backing up from Desmond’s clone.

“He could come with us,” Desmond said, since his clone looked like he knew he was so fucked. He’d failed. He was going to get in so much trouble for this. Desmond sort of felt bad for him. He didn’t know what it was like, but he could imagine what sort of punishment they’d wreck upon the poor guy for failing to integrate successfully. Even though he was a clone he had an attachment to his body in that he didn’t like seeing things mutilate it.

“No way,” Altair said. “He said he wanted to kill you several times.”

“But also that the proeathans would be pissed if he did,” Desmond reminded him.

“Oh I want to kill you,” D2 said.

“Why? You’d get in trouble?”

“Core function: kill Desmond Miles. Don’t ask me, I don’t make the rules, I just follow them,” D2 said.

“Shame, you were kinda awesome.”

“Well, I _am_ you,” D2 still hadn’t moved from where he was sitting.

“Stop flirting with yourself, it’s weird,” Jake said.

“You’re the one who thought we were going to make out,” D2 said. “Someone’s got a kink,” he said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Jake said, but looked both mortified and horrified and embarrassed by that statement.

“Gross,” Hawk informed them.

“Uh, guys, they’re _getting closer_ ,” Ezio said. At least _someone_ had the priority to keep watching the proeathans. They were a block away now. “I think now would be a good time to run.”

“What he said,” Hawk said.

“You guys go,” Altair said, “I’ll hold them.”

“Altair-

“I’ll _hold them_ ,” he shot a look at Ezio who’d spoken.

“Just make sure you run away too,” Ezio said.

“I got it. Now _go_. Make sure they don’t get him,” Altair ordered.

“Okay,” and Ezio grabbed Desmond’s arm. “C’mon Des.”

Desmond stumbled a little as Ezio pulled him away, “Will he be okay?” Desmond asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re not just telling me right?”

“Well they’ve yet to figure out a way to kill us for good, or even kill him once. So no, I’m not just saying that,” Ezio said.

“It’s a sport,” Jake said helpfully.

“Guys, less talking, more running,” Hawk said and pushed Desmond forward. Desmond glanced back and saw Altair’s lone form standing on the mostly dead grass, hidden blade out, facing the proeathans alone. Desmond’s clone stayed seated, blood still dripped from his mouth, and down his chin. The proeathans had started to double time it towards them. Then Desmond had to look forward again so he didn’t fall.

They ran together for a block before stopping. “We need to separate,” Hawk said. Desmond looked down the street and his mouth opened a little. His clone was gone and Altair had already killed six proeathans. He moved like he had back in Dubai, but seemed to be more deadly because he wasn’t killing members of the brotherhood, or even humans. He was killing slavers and people who’d helped to try and wipe out their entire species. It was pretty amazing to watch. “Desmond, pay attention,” Hawk said sharply.

“Sorry,” he said.

“We’ll meet back to where the ATVs are, we left them five blocks north. I’m going to try and get to them first and move them to the parking garage across the street if the clone tells them where it is,” Hawk said. “Think we can manage that?” they nodded. “Meeting there as soon as you can manage. Sooner the better,” he ordered.”

“What if something happens to us?” Jake asked.

“If something happens to us and we don’t all meet back before dark we’ll assume you’re dead,” Hawk said, “or captured.” There was a strange, heavy silence, “We’ll leave without you.”

“Unless it’s Desmond,” Jake didn’t sound bitter though and Desmond just felt the hole in his chest widen a little. If something happened to him they’d come for him. If it was the others they’d let it happen. They’d potentially let one of them get taken.

“Yes,” Hawk said. “Now, everyone go. The Big Eagle can’t hold them forever and he needs time to escape too, and he won’t do that till we’re _gone_.”

“Roger,” and Ezio turned and ran. Jake hesitated, looking towards Altair before booking it in another direction.

“Desmond?” Hawk asked.

“I’m sorry,” Desmond said.

“For what?”

“For being a liability.”

Hawk sort of smiled, “We could survive it. You couldn’t,”

“How do you know that? I could,” he said firmly.

“When we first got you out you’d talk in your sleep. You said you wanted to go back. If they caught you, you’d live, but we’d lose you,” Desmond was paled by Hawk’s words. That was what they hadn’t been saying. “You’re our only hope.”

“I never asked for this.”

“But you have it. We helped you make this mess, and we’re going to help you fix it. Now _run_ ,” he ordered and turned. A few proeathans had gotten past Altair and were running towards them. Hawk flicked his hand and his retracting cane-sword appeared like a gleaming beam of light. Desmond watched a second, enough to see Hawk run towards them before he turned around and sprinted away.

—

Desmond found a place to hide a few blocks away in a connivence store, under the main desk. He couldn’t hear fighting, but he also didn’t dare move. He was scared. Well that was predictable. When _wasn’t_ he scared. 

Desmond’s entire life seemed to be nothing but being scared. Scared of the the invisible enemies of his parents, scared of being found after running away, scared of Abstergo, scared of losing his mind, scared of dying, scared of not living up to the expectations of everyone. He was scared of failing his ancestors, scared of letting his species be wiped out by something _he_ did, scared of not being able to fix it, scared of never feeling safe ever again. And now scared of being found, being taken back. He kept thinking about what Hawk had said and it made him feel sick. It physically made him uncomfortable as hell.

He took shallow breaths as he sat there, curled up into a ball, hiding. He was going to wait a bit, and then go to the parking garage. It couldn’t be too hard to find, right? Sounded about right to him. But for now all he did was wait.

At least he didn’t hear the sounds of fighting. Small miracles honestly. He didn’t want to hear his ancestors killing things in his name, he didn’t want that _ever_. All he’d ever wanted was to just have his own life, have friends, have a family, be safe, and happy and didn’t have to worry about the things that went bump in the night. It was why he left the Farm. He hadn’t wanted that life. He’d wanted a life denied him, purposefully kept from him with the intention of turning him into a soldier, a killer. Into something he _wasn’t_.

Or at least… he didn’t want to be.

Maybe staying here wasn’t such a good idea. It gave him too much time to be alone with his own thoughts. He kept thinking, thinking about what he was, what he would have become, what he didn’t _want_ to be.

Desmond knew, deep deep, down, in a place he didn’t look too often, he was a warrior. He’d always known. He was the kid in the world who beat up the bullies and beat the shit out of muggers and chased down thieves. He didn’t take shit from anyone or the world, though he was normally so easy going it took something drastic to get him to act. When he _did_ act though it was mercilessly, even before the Animus. He didn’t pull back or pull punches. 

He’d been _good_ at what the Farm had been teaching him, and he’d _liked_ _it_. He’d liked fighting and learning how to defend himself. He knew that if he was good enough his dad would be proud of him, like he never had been of Duncan. But… there was always a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that came up now and then when he was reminiscing, that it was _Desmond’s fault_. Even though he’d been only eight he’d been a vastly different animal than his brother. He was an Assassin, his brother was not, too soft. Not a little part of him thought that because of that Duncan had killed himself, because he saw Desmond slipping away from him, becoming engrossed in the life of the Order, their ways.

It had stopped at eight when he’d seen his brother and his father _didn’t even come home_ until it was almost dark. He’d spent the day with one of the women at the Farm and a psychiatrist and when William had come home and all Desmond had wanted was to comforted by a family member, since his mother hadn’t done much after taking him away, he’d just looked past Desmond. He’d looked past Desmond and the blood left on the ground in Duncan’s room and sucked on his teeth and turned away, muttering something his mind had turned into ‘what a disappointment’.

After that he’d been rebellious. He questioned _everything_ and drove the adults to punishing him repeatedly, having to come up with new punishments just for him because he hated that place, hated what they’d done to him, and his family. He still liked learning how to fight, it came naturally after all, but anything else they wanted to do was like pulling teeth. He wouldn’t budge and wouldn’t take their bullshit. Andrew then blamed Duncan for Desmond’s willfulness and tried to train it out of him.

And they saw where _that_ got Andrew. A runaway son who’d used the very things they’d taught him to _run from them_.

Desmond pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. He needed to _stop_. He tried to quiet his mind. But it wouldn’t be silent. It just kept playing all that over and over again, blood and Duncan’s dead eyes as a constant bit of background noise to the entire thing. If the Animus didn’t drive him insane _this_ would. He groaned softly wishing it’d just stop.

He froze when he heard the door open. Holding his breath he listened. He could hear bootfalls, though they were light. They stepped on a bag of chips that had been on the ground, the sound of the crunching amazingly loud in the silent building. Desmond listened closely as they walked the three aisles before coming slowly over to the desk.

All he could do was wait. He’d seen them, they were armed, fuck he didn’t have anything. Only his hidden blade. His other weapons were with his ATV and he’d seen them in armor, there was no way he could do much against them. Hiding now was his best weapon. He pressed under the desk, breathing very slowly, and hoped he couldn’t be see from how pressed up in there he was.

The proeathan stopped in front of the desk and he heard them put their hands on the counter and lean over. Desmond stopped breathing. They leaned back and then walked away. He breathed out and let himself uncurl a little. As he did his foot knocked a cardboard box. The noise made him wince and the boots stopped.

Three seconds later an arm reached over the counter and he cried out when they grabbed him by the front of his coat and hauled him out and halfway across the counter. He stared into the blank face of the proeathan helmet which looked similar to a gas mask, the two large eye holes bright, glowing, yellow. They stared at him and Desmond stared back, wondering what would happen.

Then; they laughed.

It was that ‘found you’ laugh that was different from the ‘I’m going to kill you now’ laugh. Desmond knew the difference, beating up people as Altair had given him an appreciation for the two, as he had both, though they were much more subtle than that.

The proeathan proceeded to drag Desmond the rest of the way over the counter. That was great and all but for one problem Desmond was _not_ having that, and thrashed. He managed to get free as his feet hit the ground. He tried to run but the proeathan tackled him and they both fell to the floor. Desmond struggled, and the proeathan held him down. He figured that they were calling for back up, internal helmet mic. The thought made him struggle harder.

Desmond managed to flip onto his back, to easier shove the proeathan and they grabbed one of his hands. He yanked and his hand slipped from his glove and he shoved at the proeathans face. He couldn’t let them get him again. He _couldn’t_. How many more times would the others have to die to get him free? His hand slapped the proeathan’s face and Desmond started when the glyphs and geometry on his hand suddenly glowed brighter, nearly blinding for a moment, before growing dim again all at once.

At the flash the proeathan suddenly went ridged. Literally he went board stiff, his arms snapping to his side, legs going straight. Desmond hurriedly shoved the proeathan off him and stood up, panting and looking at his offending hand. What… had just happened!? He looked at the proeathan and saw they were still breathing, but their suit was like it was locked up. What the hell!?!

But then he heard others coming and he couldn’t hang around and figure this out. He ran to the entrance of the store and looked down the street. Less than half a block away, almost on top of him, was an entire squad of proeathans. So he did the only thing he could.

He ran.


	18. Dihedral

Desmond had his head between his knees, rocking slightly as he tried to get his breathing under control. He’d lost the proeathans in the maze that was old Alexandria and was now on the third floor of an old apartment building. He’d broken the door open and was hiding in the bathtub, shaking so hard it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen apart.

It had been a long chase and his lungs hurt from the cold, but he was safe now. Though safe was such a relative term, it was all relative. Desmond would never be really ‘safe’. He’d never be safe so long as the proeathans had humanity under their thumbs.

Several minutes passed before he could breathe properly and had stopped shaking so hard. Once he could sit still and breathe he pulled off his remaining glove, the other he’d left with that first proeathan. He stared at his hands. They looked the same as they always did, the geometry glowing softly, easier to see in the bathroom since it was dark in here, though nearly invisible in the daylight.

What the hell had happened back there? His hands looked the same they always did and physically there was no difference between them now and when they’d glowed brightly. He remembered when they’d glowed that brightly when he saw Morpheus, and just before how they’d been nearly blinding. He couldn’t explain it though. Tentatively Desmond reached out along the tub and slid his fingers across it. He frowned when they did what he’d thought they’d do and left behind thin trails of light. 

Why did _that_ even happen? What was the purpose of this? 

He didn’t know and more than the proeathans that’s what scared him the most. He didn’t like the unknown. He didn’t like being out of his element. It was why he adapted to change so easily. He physically couldn’t stand being a fish out of water, so he always learned what he had to do quickly and then did it and no one was the wiser to him being new at this. He needed to know and needed to be able to do what he needed to be able to do and to be able to be on top. 

For this his own body scared him more than anything else in the entire world. It was doing things he didn’t understand, without his consent, without his knowledge. He didn’t want his fingertips to craft light lines, or to do… whatever the _fuck_ they had done to that proeathan at the store. It scared him, what he could do, and potentially what he could become because of it.

He looked up when he heard shooting. Not proeathan weapons though, these were human. He’d heard proeathan weapons, they were softer and more a ‘pip’ sound. This was the rattled sound of bullets leaving a semi automatic.

Slowly he unfolded himself from the tub and went to investigate, since it was outside. He went to the window, which still had blinds, and pulled them down a little to see the street three floors below. He looked down the street and saw humans with semis, maybe AK-47s, or something more modern, shooting down the street as they hid behind some sort of cover. Behind the men shooting he saw people running away. Desmond looked down the other side of the street. Proeathans were moving quickly towards them, ducking behind cover as they moved, shooting as they hid behind cover. They were effective, and highly trained.

A chill swept over Desmond as he realized really what he’d done. When he’d woken the proeathans in New York he’d thought, for some stupid reason, most of them were important people. Politicians, scientists, thinkers, technicians, and great minds who had built the temples. But it was much more than that. The grand temple in New York really was their last hope for their people. Their _entire_ people. So that was civilians, and construction workers, electricians, children… and the military. A military that had fought with the humans in the first and only proeathan and human war since now. If it hadn’t been for the Toba collision that had sent the proeathans into stasis this military would have obliterated them. Desmond knew that on some core level he knew that. It was like an army with swords trying to take on one with nukes. It just… didn’t work.

He watched the proeathan squad progress slowly down the street. Then he heard the screaming and watched in horror as some sort of air craft, not a plane, not a helicopter, come onto the scene. It had no obvious thrusters and Desmond hadn’t even heard it coming, meaning it was nearly silent. It moved about two blocks behind the human gunmen who were protecting those who were still trying to get away, and opened fire.

Desmond’s face went white as he watched, unable to look away. The airship cut the humans down like they were nothing. He heard the screams of those trying to escape and then the rattle of guns pointed at the airship. Though they seemed to have no effect. While distracted with the airship the proeathan ground forces advanced and slaughtered the defenders. He heard the defenders scream in Arabic to Allah before they were silenced.

All at once the street was silent. The proeathans patted each other on the back. Good job. Everyone was safe. No casualties. He read all of that in their body language. Desmond felt sick. The airship left, arcing away from the scene gracefully without pause and the squad continued down the street, leaving Desmond’s sight. All that remained of the conflict were the bodies of the dead humans.

Desmond tore his eyes away from the scene and sat down on the closest flat surface that wasn’t the floor. He was shaking again. He realized his hands were in fists and he was clenching them so hard it made his arms shake. But more than that Desmond was angry.

Actually, angry wasn’t a good enough adjective to describe him right now. He was beyond angry, beyond enraged, beyond furious. Indeed all he felt in his entire body was wrath. Hot and cold and flaming white in it’s intensity. He was so angry he could barely think, could barely see. All he knew in that moment was compounding anger and rage. Anger at the proeathans, at those people who hadn’t done the smart thing and just run, at his ancestors, but mostly, at himself. He was _powerless_ and he hated it. All he could do was watch as his entire species was systematically sent off to die, or killed outright just there in the street like they were no better than _dogs_. Even humans treated animals better than that. Proeathans didn’t even treat humans like animals though. They treated them as less than that, less than human, less than animal. They were _tools_ , they were _things_ and who cared if you broke or killed a thing.

Desmond sat there in a silent rage for a long time. He was just trying to calm down. He _had_ to calm down or he’d do something stupid.

By the time the sun was setting he’d finally got a grip. He’d calmed down somewhat. Rage didn’t run through him like a wild fire, but he was still plenty angry. He could think without being consumed by it though, and that was what was important. He had to find the others. He couldn’t let them think he’d been captured or killed.

He left the apartment and went up, to the roof. He went back to the modern part of Alexandria via the rooftops, watching the sky for one of those silent aircraft. He made it back to the park they’d found him at and let out a slow, long, whistle. The dead littered the ground. All proeathan. Altair had gone some serious killing after they’d separated. Down the street he saw five other dead proeathans, Hawk’s doing.

He thought nothing of the dead and looked elsewhere, five blocks north Hawk had said. He checked the sun, faced north and jogged down the street. Five blocks he found said garage and went in.

The garage was full of empty cars, some smashed, others flipped, most of them exactly where they’d been left though. He walked into the middle of the first story. “Flash!” he called, cupping his mouth as he yelled.

“Bang!” he heard, far away, upstairs. He walked up the ramp to the second story and called flash again. Third level again and he called flash a few more times to find them. They were all already there. Altair had his shirt off, facing perpendicular to him and Jake was leaning over his back with a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass.

“There you are,” Ezio said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Desmond said. “Ran into some trouble.”

“Wait,” Hawk said. “Are you the clone?”

Desmond scowled at him, “I only have one scar, thanks,” he said pointing at his mouth.

“What year was your first motorcycle?” Altair asked him.

Desmond blinked, “I don’t know.”

“It’s him,” and he winced when Jake pulled something from his back.

“How do you know?” Ezio asked.

“Cause he was a stupid sixteen year old kid when he got his first one and didn’t care, and didn’t know. Clone would have known, proeathans would have made sure he knew, just like they made sure he knew Jake’s brother’s name. And ow,” he added to Jake.

“Then _stop fucking moving_ ,” Jake shoved Altair’s head.

“What happened to you?” Desmond asked the ancient.

“Got shoved out a second story window. Broke my spine.”

“So… you died?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought it took a while to Wake?”

“Depends on the type of death,” Ezio supplied because Jake had just hit Altair again for talking. “Clean deaths take only a few hours, messy ones can take weeks, or moths.”

“It was a clean break,” Altair said.

“Stop _moving_ or I am going to stab you,” Jake threatened.

“So what’re you doing?” Desmond asked Jake.

“He landed, on his back, on glass. So now I’m pulling out all the splinters,” he said.

“Ow.”

“You’re telling me,” Altair groaned. “Jake’s also got the worst bedside manner ever-

“We both do, now shut up before we kick your ass,” Jake muttered. No one questioned that fact that Jake was talking about both minds inside his brain. Though Jake never used the ‘we’ pronoun usually. Not unless Altair was _really_ pissing him off. Then he’d make it very to clear Altair had upset him by reminding him that Malik was inside Jacob’s head. That usually shut Altair up and got him to do what Jake said since he felt guilty about what had happened.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” Desmond asked Hawk and Ezio.

“I’ve been here since a little after we separated,” Hawk said. “I got all the ATVs inside and then just waited. Jake showed up first. Then Ezio about two hours ago. Altair showed up about half an hour ago. He’d only just Woken up.”

“And I’m hungry,” Altair notted.

“You can eat when we’re done,” Jake growled at him and Altair shut up again.

“You hungry?” Hawk asked him.

Desmond hadn’t thought about food all day. He didn’t feel hungry though, even though he hadn’t eaten since that morning. “No,” he said and his stomach didn’t betray him. He still felt the warm feeling of anger in his gut.

“Okay,” Hawk said with a nod.

“I am,” Altair said. “Ow!” he yelped.

“We told you to _stop moving_!” Jake yelled back at him, he’d just stabbed Altair with the tweezers so hard he was bleeding slightly. “We want to get this done before it gets dark.”

“Yes, sir,” Altair grumbled, hunching a little. Jake was pissed. Desmond wondered what he was so angry about. Usually he didn’t get this angry at Altair unless it was for something serious. But Jake seemed especially furious about something. Desmond wondered if he’d seen proeathans kill their people too. It was enough to make anyone pissed and want to take it out on the nearest punching bag, even if said punching bag was actually Altair.

Hawk got out some food, he and Ezio ate, out of Altair’s sight, offered some to Desmond but he didn’t take any. Jake finished getting the glass splinters from Altair’s back and they ate too. Altair ate a lot and while normally they’d say to leave off, because they rationed their food, no one told Altair not to eat what he wanted. He’d just Woken, they all understood that sort of hunger. Desmond was the only one who didn’t eat.

It was dark when they finished dinner. They packed up, got on their ATVs and decided their next course of action. They had to leave Alexandria now. The proeathans were still in the city, they would be for some time, hunting Desmond. They could all see pretty well in the dark, and Eagle Vision made the dark mostly obsolete. The only one with eye problems would be Jake, but the moon was out, he’d be able to follow Altair’s ATV.

Desmond got on his ATV and pulled down his goggles. He also wrapped a scarf around his neck and face to protect from the cold, along with his hat to keep his head warm as they drove. He was glad to have gloves back on too. He didn’t want to see his hands. He hadn’t told the others about the proeathan at the store. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about any of it. The sound of the ATVs was comforting as they drove out of the garage and out onto the street, the headlamps off, and headed out of the ancient city. Time to move on.


	19. Two Birds that Fell From the Nest

They were in what was once Libya, it was warm here. Warm of course was relative. The Mediterranean blew a warmer breeze onto them. It was something that you didn't have to wear bulky jackets in. They followed the coast of Libya and it they were close to the once tiny country of Tunisia. There were no people. Not even a trace of people. It made the others nervous. Apparently last year the Mediterranean had had small, hidden, towns pop up all along the coast, like inside caves or under trees. The fact that there weren't any made everyone uneasy.

Desmond could imagine what had happened to those little towns and all those people. The proeathans knew that the humans went south to the Sea for the winter. They had to, no way a smart species like that couldn't know that. But since they knew that it wouldn't be hard to find them, during the winter, and either slaughter them, or round them up and send them off to work as slaves. 

Desmond stayed up some nights trying not to think about how many of his people had been killed in these five years. Hawk had said a lot if them starved during the first icy winter. Huge swaths of the human race unable to last through the cold winter and freezing to death, or starving, or killed over food and supplies. But really, how many. How many. And how many were in the plantations inside Africa's interior? Or were house slaves. How many people had he inadvertently killed or ripped from their families or children. Because of _him_.

The sea calmed him somewhat. When they stopped for the night and he'd helped set up their small came he'd leave the group and walk towards the nearby shore. It was easy to get lost without a GPS, so they were mainly following the coast. It meant the Mediterranean was near. Desmond would go stand on the shore and watch the sunset. Sometimes he didn't eat dinner. A lot of times he's stay there all night and be able to watch the sun rise again in the morning. 

He slept a lot less. Altair still slept maybe once a week, like really slept, not dozed or rested, that let him stay awake with so much little sleep. Before Alexandria Desmond slept every other night or so. It was harder to sleep now. He kept hearing the 'pip pip' of proeathan gunfire, and see the people gunned down by the silent gunship. His own face also appeared when he slept. D2's face, his face. One with his memories, his body. And he wanted to kill Desmond. Of course Desmond wanted to kill him too. But the fact that the proeathans made a _clone_ of him just pissed him off. Not only did they have his body for five years, they also had a copy, one they could question and learn from. It was infuriating.

It would take a few days to travel through Libya. Desmond was watching the sea on their forth day out of Alexandria. The camp was set up, Desmond couldn't find it in himself to be hungry either, though the others offered him dinner. He felt hungry a lot less lately. He knew it was worrying the others, that he was eating less, sleeping less, and was always tired it seemed. He really didn't want them to worry about him, he knew they worried enough about him. They didn't need to worry more.

He looked up when someone came over to him. They mainly left him alone when he went to sit near the shore. Left him to his thoughts. Jake sat down heavily next to him with a grunt. He didn't say anything though, and Desmond didn't ask why he was there. If he had something to say, he'd say it. So Desmond just watched the sunset.

"You didn't have dinner," Jake said when the sun had set. "What's up with that?" Desmond just shrugged. "Oh c'mon, don't gimmie that."

"Shut up Jake," Desmond said and unfolded himself from his sitting position and left the New Yorker there on the shore and went somewhere else, getting lost amid the long, deep, shadows of the sunset's after glow. Jake didn’t follow him as he lost himself in the darkness.

—

Libya passed them by in silence. Desmond didn’t talk to his ancestors or Jake much. He heard and saw them talking though, they were concerned. Part of him wished they’d stop talking amid _themselves_ and talk to _him_ about it. He wasn’t some kid they needed to baby. He was a grown man who had a lot of responsibilities now, a lot of guilt, a lot of pain. None of them mentioned the clone, though he knew it’d surprised all of them. They were very pointedly not talking about the huge elephant in the room that was said clone though. It was sort of one of those things that if you ignored it it’d go away.

It wouldn’t.

They’d stopped for lunch when Ezio came up to him. Desmond wasn’t eating. He’d eaten last night but it made him feel sick, and he hadn’t eaten that morning. His stomach was protesting a bit about that.

Ezio offered him a nice smile as he came up to Desmond’s ATV. He was sort of reclining on it, back against the packs strapped to the back. “Hey,” Ezio said nicely.

“What?” Desmond wasn’t in the mood. He was hungry but knew it’d just fuck his gut up more, and the glyphs were still growing; slowly. He’d checked himself out with a mirror one of the nights Altair slept and he was awake. They covered his front and halfway up his chest, but had yet to appear on any part of his back of the back of his legs. It moved slowly though, maybe an inch a day, if that.

“You should eat something,” Ezio offered him a bowl. It contained canned soup from a large town they’d passed through. It was warm and steamed slightly in the cool air. Desmond’s stomach growled, it smelled good, it also made his stomach roll.

“I’ll pass,” Desmond swallowed.

“You haven’t eaten since last night,” Ezio said with a frown. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Desmond said. “But I don’t think I can hold it,” no shame in telling the truth. He’d been told to always tell the truth, unless it got you in trouble, like… _police_ sort of trouble.

“You feeling okay?”

Desmond bit his tongue so hard he thought he tasted blood. Instead he just took a slow breath. “Yeah,” he said and allowed himself to smile a little at Ezio, it was his best fake one he could manage.

“You aren’t getting sick are you?” Ezio sounded seriously concerned about that.

“No, I’m fine,” Desmond promised.

“You sure?”

Desmond swallowed down a snarl that made him want to smack the bowl out of Ezio’s hands and tell him to fuck off. But he didn’t because he was better than that. He remembered what Hawk had said, let them try to help, because they didn’t understand. “Yeah,” he said instead, “I promise. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Ezio said, though Desmond wasn’t sure how much Ezio believed him. “Sure you don’t wanna try some?” he motioned with the bowl.

Desmond rubbed his fingers of one hand together so hard they nearly hurt. Don’t snap. Don’t snap. He was just trying to help. “Sure,” Desmond and Ezio seemed delighted for Desmond to at least _try_ to eat. “Thanks.”

“Of course _bambino_ ,” Ezio said affectionately and gave a playful push at his hat which covered his brutally short hair. It was growing in slowly and was just a big longer than a buzz cut now. Desmond offered him a smile and Ezio left him on his own. He looked down at the soup, ate a few bites because he _was_ hungry, but that was all he managed. His stomach started going ‘no, we’re done here’ and he did his best to not throw up. Thankfully he didn’t, mainly because there wasn’t anything actually _in_ his stomach to throw up.

He dumped his soup before lunch ended, he wasn’t sure it the others noticed, and leaned back on his ATV. He watched Altair and Jake bicker. They bickered a lot now since they left Alexandria, in Arabic or Urdu, or Hindi, or several other languages Jake now knew thanks to the Bleeding Effect before what had happened to him. Sometimes they’d yell at each other, but only a few words before Jake, usually, stalked off, pissed. He’d come back a few minutes later and it’d be like nothing happened. It wasn’t normal, he didn’t know really _what_ they were arguing about. Somehow he thought they were arguing just to argue, to get rid of their anxious, frustrated, energy. That’s what happened at lunch today and once Jake was done being pissed at whatever they’d argued over they left.

The rest of the trip through Libya was uneventful, almost boring. Desmond made himself eat and keep the food down because the others were _really_ getting worried about it. It took them only a few days to reach the border of Tunisia where they left the coast behind and traveled inland, cutting through what had once been the tiny country to make it to Algeria in less time. It’d take two to three days to make it through Tunisia and into Algeria where they’d head back for the coast and find a boat.

It was late. Desmond wasn’t sleeping, neither was Altair. Desmond was at least pretending though. He was laying on his back, staring up at the stars. He tried to find the sixteen constellations of the proeathans, but he couldn’t remember what they looked like except Morpheus, and the Unnamed, but there were so many stars, any of them could have been the Unnamed. At least Morpheus was easy. Just find Orion.

Someone edged over to him. “What?” Desmond asked softly. He turned and looked at Hawk who was in his sleeping bag looking at him as well. He could see his ancestor clearly in the darkness. Hawk opened his mouth, “Don’t,” he added, seeing the question forming on Hawk’s lips.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted, or needed, anything?” Hawk asked him and rolled onto his stomach.

“Like what? You my fairy god-mother now?” Desmond teased.

Hawk smiled at him, “No. I’ve seen you though. You and Jake are sort of fraying at the edges from so much stress. I know he doesn’t have as much as you, but he’s still new to this too.”

“That why they’ve been arguing?”

“I think so. Good stress relief,” Hawk nodded. “I can see you need it.”

“… The others know?” he asked quietly.

“I think they can guess. You have a really good poker face though, they don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“You wanna yell at me?” Hawk asked.

Desmond shook his head, “No. I’m not that sort of stressed out.”

“You can ask me Little Bird,” Hawk reminded him.

Desmond stared at his ancestor and then looked down, away. “I keep thinking. It’d be really nice to not be able to do that.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You could use the Apple.”

“Yeah, but I won’t. It’d require full control, you know all we do is suggestion.”

“Oh,” right, of course. Desmond sunk down in his sleeping bag. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly.

Hawk crawled out of his sleeping bag a bit and Desmond got to be surprised when Hawk hugged him. It was… nice. He pressed his face into Hawk’s shoulder and while he didn’t hug Hawk back his appreciation was felt and he gave back the same warmth Hawk gave him. Hawk gave good hugs, which he was a bit surprised by since Hawk didn’t _hug_. But this was a hug with everything Hawk had, which wasn’t much, but it still felt nice. When Ezio hugged him it didn’t feel like this, or when Jake’d wrap an arm around his shoulders in a friendly way it didn’t feel like this either. Altair didn’t hug him much. 

Hawk held him tightly for nearly a minute and for nearly a minute it really felt like everything was just… going to be okay. Like it really, really, would be okay. He didn’t know how badly damaged Hawk was, but damnit if he could do this than so could Desmond. Then Hawk let him go and smoothed his head across Desmond’s head and forehead. “You’re okay,” Hawk said softly.

“Yeah,” Desmond said with a swallow, “I will be.”

Hawk smiled a little, “Good. Now try and get some sleep okay?”

“You should _suggest_ I go to sleep,” Desmond said with a smirk.

“I will if you want me to,” Hawk said without flinching.

Desmond blinked, “You really would?”

“Of course. Altair’s had me suggest he go to sleep quite a bit in the past few years. While you were gone he was sometimes too stressed to sleep for three weeks and would ask me to.”

“Oh… would you?” Desmond asked, hoping he didn’t sound desperate. He wanted to be able to eat and sleep and be _normal_ and not have to fight off wakefulness every night when he just wanted to collapse in exhaustion. He needed a _real_ full night of sleep.

“Okay. Lay down and get comfortable,” Hawk slid back into his own bag and fumbled around in it as Desmond got situated. As he did he looked over at Altair. The ancient was looking at him, face blank, he was wearing the hood of his coat up and the black material did nothing but further hide his face, even from Desmond. He looked… troubled. “Okay,” Hawk said and Desmond heard the soft, jumbled, song of the Apple. Hawk hadn’t used his Apple in a long time, but Desmond was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to _hear it_ unless he was touching it. Before he could mention it though Hawk said, “Go to sleep Desmond, you’ll feel better in the morning.” He had a chance to look at his ancestor illuminated in soft, golden, light before his eyes slid shut.


	20. The Bird and the Worm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ, IMPORTANT!!!!
> 
> Okay so there was a HUGE mixup for some reason with some chapters. For some... reason I totally didn't post chapters 9 and 15 and so they were actually the wrong chapters. The right chapters are now in place there. I don't know how that happened but if you were confused about some things now you know! Also now there aren't time and logic jumps. jfc sorry /o\

Desmond woke when someone slapped him across the face. It made him jolt awake and he looked around blearily, rubbing his eyes. Doing so gave him time to take in his environment through his other senses. He was sitting on the ground, concrete, and it was cold. They’d taken his warmer over coat but had left him the rest of his clothes so the marks on his skin was covered. He could feel the presence of four other people but they didn’t have the same atmosphere as his ancestors. There was also the fact that he’d been slapped awake. Why had that happened? What was even going on? Why hadn’t he woken before now?

He pulled his fingers away from his eyes and sat up straight and back against the wall when he came face to face with two gun muzzles. Oh. Okay. Guns, his favorite. Two of the men held guns aimed at his head. The other two were further away, talking.

Desmond looked the men over, two of them were black, one was white, and the other asian. They were dirty and their clothes looked like they’d seen better days. Desmond swallowed. Okay. What the _fuck_ was going on? He focused on his gunmen, the asian man and one of the black men. The black guy had an AK-47, the stats appeared in his head without thinking it, the Farm had trained him in all sorts of firearms. He could dismantle an AK-47 in about fifteen seconds. The asian had a… shit was that a  Steyr Aug? Where the hell had he even gotten one of those? They were in Africa and he was sporting an assault rifle from Austria. He’d never had any training on Steyr’s other than how to identify one as it was a good gun though it looked like something from a sci-fi movie. Both men looked like they knew how to use their weapons very well and didn’t take their eyes off Desmond except to blink. Desmond swallowed.

Then the other black man noticed he was indeed awake. They walked over to him and after looking him over a second started talking to him in French. Desmond’s brows just went up because he didn’t speak French _at all_. They changed to another language, “You speak Arabic white boy?” they asked in Arabic.

“Yes,” Desmond said. “Uh… where am I?”

“You’re in Gafsa.” Gafsa. They’d been planning on avoiding that city. The others didn’t tell him why but apparently it was a city that was still inhabited by people. But that wasn’t exactly a good thing since it meant the proeathans _knew_ they were there and letting them stay there because they willed it.

“Am I a prisoner?”

“Yes. You are,” the black man said. “Your people were carrying an awful lot of weapons, and Gafsa doesn’t tolerate bandits.”

“We weren’t bandits,” Desmond said quickly. “We were just passing through.”

“They all say that,” he said. “Now, you going to cooperate with us? Or do you want to end up like your friends?”

Desmond hesitated, “What happened to my friends?” he asked.

The man smiled a white toothed smile that made Desmond uneasy. “One of them was killed in the ambush. The others didn’t cooperate with us. So we killed them. You going to cooperate with us?”

Desmond swallowed. If that was true, then one, they were going to be _pissed_ when they Woke back up, and two, these Gafsa people weren’t messing around. “What do you want? I don’t want to die,” he said. The others could get away with being jerks and hard and getting shot, because they would come back. Desmond didn’t have that option. He had one life.

“Good. Now what’s your name white boy?” the black man asked.

“Desmond,” he said, “Desmond Miles.”

The black man blinked and looked back at the white guy, speaking to him in French. The white man finally became interested and Desmond heard his name repeated. For some reason his entire name was repeated back and forth between them in the conversation. He just got more confused by the minute. The white man spoke French to Desmond but he just shook his head, he had no idea.

“ _This, you speak this?_ ” it was English.

“ _Yes_.” 

 _“Okay_ ,” he had a French accent, very thickbut his English was good. _“You said your name was Desmond Miles?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Don’t lie.”_

_“I’m not. My name, is Desmond Miles_ ,” like he could forget his own fucking name. The white man motioned to the black man and the black man hit him. It made his ears ring and his head fly to the side.

“ _Now what’s your name?”_ the white man demanded. The gunmen had stepped back a bit.

“ _I told you_ ,” Desmond groaned. Shit that had hurt. He was hit again.

 _“Stop lying. Now what is it_?”

Shit. This wasn’t working. This wasn’t… fuck. The black man hit him again. He was bleeding now, blood running from his nose and a split lip. He felt like his face was huge and was going to swell with those bruises. “ _Okay_ ,” he wheezed and held up his hands. “ _Okay, it isn’t Desmond—_ “ he spit blood out of his mouth. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to use a pseud. He didn’t even know what to use though. Usually he put a great deal of thought into what he called himself. Names were important to him, they were as much his identity as his own face. But he had to give a name or he’d get hit again, one that wouldn’t piss them off. Shit what did he do? He was also still trying to recover from getting the shit beat out of him. He needed to come up with something quick.

So the first thing that popped into his head came out of his mouth. “Seventeen,” he said around the blood, and spit again. Thankfully another blow didn’t come. He looked up at them around a slightly swollen eyes. They were looking at him, but saying nothing. He looked away and spit when they started talking to each other in French.

Then, all at once, they left, even the gunmen. Desmond stared at the empty room around him. Oh, okay. Well at least his life wasn’t being threatened anymore.

He slowly pushed himself to his feet. His head still hurt but other than that he was fine. He inspected the room but there was nothing interesting in it. It looked like a basement actually, but with no windows. He wandered around, a little before sitting down on the stairs, because they were wooden and thus warmer than the stone. His nose has stopped bleeding by now, and his mouth, but everything still hurt and it was hard to see out of one eye.

A while later the door opened, but no one came down. Instead he heard a clack and the door closed again. Curious he went and looked. It was food and a bottle of water. Desmond wasn’t hungry. But he did use the water to wash the blood off his face.

Nothing else happened for a while. Desmond grew really bored. At least when he had time alone it was never really time alone and even he could only be self pitying for so long before he was just bored with himself. So he decided to do something instead of just sit there and wait to get beat up again.

He tugged off his long sleeved shirt, the one covered in blood, and his heavy pants so he stood in the basement in just his under armor and gloves. He felt a slight chill, but not in a bad way, he wouldn’t feel it soon. So he started to exercise like how he’d done when he’d been at the Farm, after he’d left, and then with his ancestors. It was routine, and helpful. Even after he’d left the Farm behind him the exercise helped settle his mind and body. Even when he trained now, as much as he would complain it was one of the few things that could quiet his thoughts.

He did stretches push ups, and sit ups, more push ups, more stretches, lunges, sit ups again. He would have done pull ups but there wasn’t anything he could grab on to. He did a lot of push ups and sit ups actually, until he was nearly exhausted, with various stretches and other exercises sprinkled amid. Then he was done and laying on the floor of the basement, sweating and panting. The cool stone felt good on his back and he shivered slightly in the cold air. But he didn’t want to put his other shirt back on. It was blood stained.

The door opened and closed again with the sound of food being brought. Desmond dragged himself upstairs and ate it all, and drank the water, though saved some for later. At least they were feeding him. So they didn’t want him dead. Good to know.

He found other various ways to amuse himself over the hours. He did more pushups; one handed, jumping ones. He did other exercises, he shadow fought, going through forms mindlessly, his mind wonderfully blank and clear. He just tried to not think and not be bored and since he had nothing on his person, not even his hidden blade, all he could do was move around.

He passed at least two days like this. Or he thought so. He slept only once, after exhausting himself with physical movement, but his internal clock told him he’d missed a night of sleep. They fed and watered him every few hours and before the first day had ended a bucket had appeared at the top of the stairs. It took him zero time to figure out what that was for.

Then, on the third day, the door opened. The black man who’d beat him came down the stairs. Desmond stood waiting for him in his under armor and pants. He’d forgone trying to salvage his long sleeved shirt, but his under armor was long sleeved so the glyphs were still hidden. “Cardinal wants to see you,” they said in Arabic.

“Who?”

“The cardinal,” oh that _did not_ sound good at all. They grabbed him by the top of his arm, “C’mon,” and he didn’t have much of a choice as he was man handled up the stairs and out the door. The light outside was intense after the low watt bulb down in the basement. “You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, got it?” they growled and hauled him down a sunlit hallway to a room. Desmond had time to say, ‘yeah’ before he was being shoved into a chair and one hand cuffed to the back of the chair.

“Really? This isn’t necessary, I’m not-“ he cut off when ‘the cardinal’ came in.

He was an older man though he still had colored hair, the lines on his face fine. He was white and had sharp, dark, eyes, and a beard starting to grow, probably for the winter. His clothes were also red. Of course, cardinal and all. He also wore a headdress that was very familiar to Desmond and not in a good way. It actually sort of freaked him out.

The man in red said something in French and waved the black man away. Then he sat across from Desmond in his own chair. There was no table. “ _Hello_ ,” he said in English. Desmond said nothing. There was something he _really_ didn’t like about this guy. _“I’ve been told that you call yourself Seventeen, is that true?”_

 _“What’s it to you?”_ he asked flatly.

_“I’m a holy man, and such a name is most unholy.”_

_“Not to humans.”_

_“What’s your real name?”_

Desmond looked around to make sure there was no big black man to beat his face in. _“Desmond Miles. Who’re you?”_

The man smiled widely. _“Oh you are?”_

 _“Yes,”_ Desmond frowned. _“Your lackeys beat the shit out of me for saying that.”_

 _“I apologize,”_ the cardinal said.

 _“Who’re you?”_ he asked again.

 _“I am the cardinal of Gafsa Jeffrey White,_ ” he said pleasantly.

 _“That’s the fakest name I’ve ever heard in my life,”_ Desmond said, unimpressed. “ _And cardinal for what? Those aren’t Catholic robes.”_

_“I’m a stasellin cardinal.”_

_“… A_ what _?”_

Jeffrey chuckled a little, _“It’s a new religion, but very popular among the freemen. They like it because it keeps the proeathans away.”_

_“…What do you mean keeps them away?”_

_“They worship the gods, and the gods don’t trouble them. Just as it should be.”_

Desmond’s eyes flicked into Eagle Vision. The man shown brilliant and red in his second sight. He only needed a second to see that. Then he was back in his normal sight and really looked at the cardinal. Their clothes were red with some white and without any ornamentation. Except for over their heart.

Desmond fell out of his chair as he tried to get away. Over the heart was a cross, a _Templar_ _cross_. _“You’re a Templar,”_ he said and scooted back, dragging the chair with him.

Jeffrey smiled still, _“I am. Hello Mr. Miles.”_

_“No.”_

_“I’m quite surprised to find you here to be honest. But then, you always did find ways to surprise us.”_

Desmond’s back hit the wall and he used it to help him stand. The chair he was shackled to clattered as he stood. _“This doesn’t have to end badly,” he said._

 _“Of course not,”_ he agreed. _“I don’t want to hurt you.”_

 _“I was thinking more I don’t have to snap your neck,”_ Desmond said.

Jeffrey shifted a little. _“That won’t be necessary,”_ he said curtly.

 _“You bastards are_ still _looking for me?_ ”

_“Yes. Especially since your little escape a few months ago.”_

_“You sick fucks,”_ Desmond said. _“You’re working with them?”_

 _“To preserve our species, Mr. Miles,”_ the cardinal said.

_“Yeah? And how do you figure that?”_

_“Gafsa has had an increase in population since the purge. Most places in the world besides the slave farms can say that. We’re a dying species Desmond. And the Templars has the best interest of humanity at heart. So why shouldn’t we try to help them?”_

_“Because you’re proeathan dogs,”_ Desmond spat. _“You aren’t helping. You say you’re a cardinal of some fuck off religion that is clearly proeathan based if your men got scared of me calling myself Seventeen. You’re no better than them. Enslaving them to worship people that are no more gods than I am.”_

_“We are trying to help.”_

_“Bull shit. You Templars are only interested in yourselves. You’re doing this because it gets you something. Power isn’t it? The proeathans are giving you it, and a free leash to turn the world into sheep for them.”_

_“You have quite a few opinions about us Mr. Miles, though you know nothing.”_

_“I know enough just from looking at you.”_

_“How unfortunate. Warren did brief us in case we ever met you. I thought he was being extreme.”_

_“Go to hell,”_ he growled back.

_“There’s no need for that. I mean you no harm.”_

_“I don’t believe you. You work for the proeathans, they want me.”_

_“They do,”_ he agreed. _“But, I haven’t told them you’re here.”_

_“… You haven’t?”_

_“No,”_ he said and held his hands out a bit helplessly.

_“Why?”_

_“Because there is no point. And as you said, the Templars have their own agenda. We don’t plan on handing you to them.”_

_“Why?”_ now he was starting to get nervous.

 _“Because they want you. So what better way to get back at them then to just kill you?”_ He swallowed. Jeffrey chuckled, _“Not now though,”_ he promised. _“There’d be no point in us doing so if they didn’t know you were here.”_

_“But they don’t know I’m here.”_

_“Not yet,”_ and Jeffrey stood. _“They’ll figure it out though, and when they do…”_ he grinned, _“my friend would be happy to kill a man named Seventeen,”_ Desmond growled at him. They both looked out the window when a cryer started calling. “Ah, time for evening service. Come with me, we’ll go together,” and he walked to the door and spoke French. The black man came in and uncuffed Desmond.

 _“Service?”_ Desmond asked.

 _“Of course. This is a god fearing city after all, it’s time for mass,_ ” and the way Jeffrey said that didn’t make Desmond feel better about the thing _at all_.


	21. Minokawa

The main church of Gafsa was a refitted mosque. There were no muslims here though. At least no current muslims, they were all that weird proeathan religious idiot. But he also saw white people here and knew he wasn’t just looking at muslims, but at christians and jews and catholics, maybe atheists and agnostics too. But the fear of the very real gods on Earth put them in church. All the people remaining in Gafsa weren’t just from Tunisia it seemed but from all over. The proeathans had successfully done what no other human religion had ever done, they’d made a world religion that people from all over the world probably practiced. The humans were scared though, that was why they were here, not because they were religious. Fear made people do a lot of things after all.

Jeffrey led him into the church and no one looked sideways at him as they hustled to mass. They walked up to the front and sat on the floor as like mosques there were no chairs or pews in this church. Desmond looked behind him when he sat and saw several men with guns in the back of the church. Probably for him. Oh _wonderful_.

People crowded into the church and Desmond had a feeling this was happening all over town. Or at least in other places as he got the feeling Gafsa as a bastion for humans to escape the wilderness and return to society in some capacity and was thus rather populated. It was the only city they’d found that had people actively living in it, though he didn’t know the conditions of the living. From his brief trip from the house they’d been keeping him in to the church it hadn’t looked very promising. A perpetual slums. This wasn’t a life, this was a penance.

He turned to Jeffrey, _“My friends,”_ he said. The Templar looked at him, _“what happened to them?”_

_“They were uncooperative.”_

_“I was told they were shot,”_ Desmond said.

 _“Unfortunately,”_ Jeffrey said.

_“How?”_

_“What do you mean how?”_

_“You ambushed us.”_

_“We did,”_ he agreed. _“We don’t take well to bandits as you might imagine. A group of men was dispatched. I was told they shot your sentry from a distance,”_ sentry? Oh, Altair. Well that explained how he’d been killed. _“The others, including you, were taken in their sleep. I had them questioned when they woke, they were unhelpful, so were deemed unimportant and were all giving a painless death.”_

That was such bull. There was no such thing as a ‘painless’ death. Even ones that were near instant hurt. _“Through the head?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“What’d you do with them?”_

_“We have a graveyard outside of town, you’re welcome to go,”_ he said.

 _“I’d like to,”_ Desmond said. Later though. Not now. Now he needed to worry about not ending up there too. It was one things for the others to get shot and killed, they’d come back, but he wouldn’t. He had one shot, and he couldn’t fuck it up.

Then a hush fell over the entire church. There hadn’t been much talking to begin with, and what there was had been quiet. But now it was quiet as a crypt when a man in white stepped up in front of everyone for mass. He had a headdress that looked proeathan in origin and circular, yellow paned glasses. The glasses were strange especially when Desmond looked at some of the other… priests around and saw they had yellow paned glasses too. Jeffrey shifted next to him and slid his own pair onto his face. What the ever loving fuck?

 _“What’s up with the sixties shades?”_ Desmond asked Jeffrey softly as the priest started to speak, Desmond wasn’t paying attention, he didn’t actually give a shit what sort of propaganda the priest was spewing. But he knew better than to talk during mass.

 _“Proeathans have yellow eyes,”_ Jeffrey told him quietly. _“It’s respectful.”_ Desmond looked behind him and saw that while other people didn’t have yellow glasses several of them were clutching things around their necks. He quickly scanned for necklaces and saw a lot of people had flattened pieces of gold into disks about the size of old American half dollars. On the nearer ones he saw an eye was stamped in the middle of it. Yellow eyes. Well that was appropriately freaky and weird.

He turned back around when Jeffrey stood up and he caught the tail end of the priest saying that the cardinal was going to speak. Desmond was still sort of reeling from being faced with a Templar, _again_. And one that was religious, a cardinal. He kept getting flash backs of Juan and Cesare. He had to remind himself a few times that he wasn’t Ezio and he wasn’t in Rome. Rome was an ocean away and it couldn’t traumatize him. How did a Catholic hierarchy end up in a new age… old age? religious service anyway? Templars, that was really the best guess, not to mention Catholicism was one of the most recognized religions in the entire world. Still wouldn’t an Islamic structure be better for this part of the world? This was what Desmond thought about instead of listening, not that is helped as Jeffrey was speaking French and it was over Desmond’s head.

Jeffrey didn’t speak long and then came and sat back down next to him. Another priest took over and through a quick check Desmond confirmed what he’d thought; red. It was a fucking nest of Templars. All these ‘holy men’ were Templars, preaching for their masters.

The new priest spoke in Arabic, like the last one. Arabic and French seemed to be the deal here, though he bet they spoke English too.

“It’s so good to see so many faces here today, old and some new,” the priest smiled and Desmond followed his line of sight. There was a small family closer to the front, the woman held a bundle, clearly an infant. He smiled slightly, well at least humans hadn’t stopped doing what humans did best; make babies. “Which is what we strive for. The new. Just because we’re small in number doesn’t mean that we’re gone. We suffered terribly these past few years, not even I can deny that, but already we start anew. So many of us have made a new life here in Gafsa and we’ve come from all walks of life, to make a better place here, during these dark times. But in the dark there is a light, a light of promise and renewal. A new generation in a new world.

“Do not fear the gods. They protect us here. Those who turn away, or try to disrupt the natural order of things meet their just fate in the slave houses,” he saw people around him nodding. “They were not devout, they did not believe. They _wrongly_ thought that they were above the Proeathans, that somehow they were above god’s plan. They thought they were better than you, that _they_ should get more than you. Well I can tell you my children; they are not. They are the ones in the fields and the factories and the mines, while you are here, safe in the arms of the Proeathans” he said it so nicely, so kindly. It was like honey to the ears. Desmond had sat in on other services before, or slept in churches, he knew that speakers were good at what they did. This guy was _excellent_. He saw nodding, bowed heads, some people crossed themselves.

Desmond just sat there listening to the sermon. It painted the proeathans as wonderful and just and those in Gafsa as blessed by them to still be around while those who’d become slaves as sinners. It was all very black and white and those who didn’t follow the proeathans were thusly punished by them and because of this everyone needed to follow them. The people of Gafsa were _encouraged_ to turn in their neighbors if they knew they weren’t practicers of this fucked up religion. The more Desmond listened the more it started to remind him of what Hitler had done to the Jews actually. Any who didn’t practice were unclean and filthy and weren’t worth anything.

It made Desmond _very_ angry. He just sat there next to Jeffrey so enraged he was shaking.

But it didn’t end there. Then the priest started preaching the merits of the proeathans. How they were perfect and that if they were lucky one may visit them and bestow their beauty and perfection upon them if they were devout enough. All he could think was that Gafsa could be turned into some fucked up tourist attraction for the proeathans. It was sick.

Then, as mass slowly wound down one of the guys with guns, though he didn’t have a gun now, came up, leading another man. Jeffrey sat up straight and they watched. “My friends,” the priest said as the gunman forced the other man to his knees, one hand holding his shoulder in a vice grip. “This man is one of us, but yesterday was caught _stealing_ from the market,” gasps went around. “I know that food is always a bit tight, we’re all hungry sometimes, but that does not mean it is right to steal. What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked looking down at the man.

The man spoke Arabic, but it was with a serious accent, “I needed to feed my daugh-“ the gunman smacked him.

“He says it’s to feed his daughter. But this man _has_ no daughter,” the priest declared. “So not only is he a thief, but he’s a _liar!_ He would use the goodness of our hearts to help care for Gafsa against us. He would take advantage of our good nature,” there was angry muttering in the mosque. “So now, my children, what shall we do with this man?”

There was some more muttering, people deciding. Then from the back, someone called, ‘death to the thief!’ though who had was unknown. It could well have been a gunman, a stooge. “Is that it?” the priest asked. The thief made to open his mouth but the gunman holding him squeezed his shoulder clearly to the point of pain, for he winced. “Death to the thief?”

“Death to the thief!” several other people declared. Then it became a greater noise. Desmond watched in horror at what was going on. This guy was going to get _lynched_ for not wanting to starve, having a daughter or not didn’t matter. Looking at him Desmond could see he was frail and too thin.

“I’ve heard you!” the priest cried, hands up for silence. “Cardinal, do you approve?”

“I do,” Jeffrey said.

“Good then-

“Stop,” and Desmond was on his feet before he knew what he was doing. Every set of eyes in the place turned to him.

“Son, sit pleas-

“Fuck you,” Desmond spat and walked over to the priest and the gunman. “You’re not killing this man,” and he smacked the gunman’s hands off him.

“You’re new here. Who are you?” the priest asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Desmond said and looked at him and then out to the huge gathering of people. “You all should be _ashamed_ of yourselves,” he told them. “That you would deem one of your own to death.”

“It is the will of the gods-

“Don’t give me that shit,” Desmond snapped. “It is the will of man that someone who’s starving is going to die and nothing more. How many of you know this man?” by the number of people who couldn’t meet his gaze he’d guess quite a few. “And you’d let him die. Being lynched by a mob because he’s doing the same thing you all would do in his place, because he’s trying to survive in this cold, thankless, world. This isn’t the gods’ will, this isn’t even Allah, or God or YHWH will. This is some mob of people deciding who can die, and who can live.”

“Sir, please sit down.”

“What if I don’t?” he challenged the priest, his hands still on the would-be lynched shoulders protectively. “What if I don’t just sit there and let you all become murderers?” he looked out into the crowd. Clearly several of them were now shamed, with someone pointing a finger at them.

“You’ve no right to disrupt our service,” the priest said, highly agitated and looked towards Jeffrey. Jeffrey did nothing.

“I have every right. You’re telling lies about the proeathans. Lies about humans. In fact, after listening to this whole thing I don’t think you’ve said one truth this entire time.”

“And how would you know? Are you somehow smarter than me? Can you see the truths from the lies?”

“No bu-

“Then how do you know I lie about our gods-

“Well for starters, they _aren’t_ gods.”

“Says a mere mortal. You know nothing.”

“I know a lot fucking more than you,” Desmond growled.

“How would you?”

Desmond knew he needed to do something drastic. He was starting to lose the attention of the others. They were starting to get upset with him. If he didn’t do something he was the one who was going to get lynched. That was on the bottom of his to-do list along with Bleed through and swallow nails. He needed to end the conversation _now_ before it got out of hand.

“Because,” he said as a stupid idea formed quickly in his head. He went into Eagle Vision, “I am one,” and he looked at the gathered. “And I am so disappointed in you.”

There was a huge intake of breath from the assembled. There was no denying his eyes. He’d never seen a proeathans eyes before, not a real one’s at least. He thought the holograms had weird yellow eyes. Jeffrey had told him different, proeathans _had_ yellow eyes. He knew his eyes went golden in Eagle Vision. The congregation leaned back, away from him.

“Oh my,” the priest breathed and Desmond looked at him, their eyes were wide behind their yellow panes. They looked at Jeffrey helplessly. The cardinal still did nothing. “Your holiness,” and then he bowed to Desmond. Desmond did nothing. He’d played his ace, now he had to see if it held up. The would-be lynched man was looking up at him in awe and Desmond watched the entire congregation of people go from shocked and maybe a bit scared, to awe and definitely scared. Desmond watched passionlessly as in swaths they bowed to him. Old muslims went prostrate, a large portion of them, others bowed their heads, leaning forward.

Well. It had worked. Now what?

The priest righted himself, “You bless us-

“Shut up,” Desmond said. “You all disgust me,” he told the priest. “You twist words, and tell lies. Get out.”

“W-what?” clearly the priest had not been expecting that.

“Get. Out,” desmond said. If he was going to play the part then fuck it this was his house. The priest was terribly confused. “You’re in my church. Now _get out_ ,” and he pointed at the door. “All of you,” he added to the gathered.

There was a stretched silence where no one moved. Then someone stood up and walked down the row and out the door. After that it was a mass exodus. People stood and then walked to the door, leaving. There was a great cacophony of voices as they left, talking excitedly and nervously.

A woman came up to them, the one he’d seen with the new baby, which she held in her arms. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband. She spoke French to him. “I don’t speak French,” he said in Arabic.

“Your holiness,” she said in broken Arabic, clearly it was a second, or maybe a third language. “W-would you bless my child?” she asked and offered him the baby.

He looked at it, looked at her and wondered if he looked disgusted. “No,” he said. She looked at him, stricken, “Your baby deserves better than to be blessed by someone like me.” She blinked at him, clearly confused. Slowly though, she nodded a scuttled back to her husband, then they left. 

Desmond felt sick to his stomach. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. He got them to stop, he’d gotten them to leave. But at the price that now they thought he was sone god. He wasn’t. He was just some fuck up. Fuck. If they knew who he _really_ was, and what he’d done to them he didn’t doubt he’d be the one being lynched. He’d put them all here. He kept his face schooled as they all finally left.

Once they were gone the priest came up to him again. “Uh… who are you?” he asked.

Desmond looked at him, he was shining red in his second sight. “Not happy to see you. Get out.”

“Cardinal, who is this man?” the priest asked.

Jeffrey grunted as he got to his feet, “A god brother, he is a god. Now, please excuse us,” and he shooed the priest out.

Desmond glared at Jeffrey. _“Did you plan this?”_ he asked.

_“No.”_

_“Don’t lie to me.”_

_“Or what? You’re no proeathan. You’re just a human playing with things he doesn’t understand-_

Desmond grabbed him by the front of his red coat. _“I’m a human who’s_ really _pissed off right now. I suggest you not push me Templar, I’m an Assassin and can still kill you with my bare hands.”_

 _“But would you?”_ Jeffrey asked, hanging but Desmond’s fist.

 _“You wouldn’t be the first,”_ Desmond said coldly.

 _“How could I have planned this?_ ” Jeffrey asked. _“I was with you the whole time mass was going on, and before now I did not know who you were.”_

 _“You knew I’d do_ something _,”_ Desmond growled.

_“I did. I never thought it’d be this though. Quite a show, I was very impressed.”_

Desmond let him go, disgusted. _“What do you want from me?”_

_“You’re our god on earth. What do you want?”_

Desmond looked at him, then looked at the thief. _“I want you to feed him, and his family,”_ he said pointing at them. _“Then I want you to leave me alone.”_

 _“Of course your holiness,”_ Jeffrey said smugly, Desmond just sneered at him.

He looked at the man, “He’s going to give you some food. Go with him,” and he helped the man up and handed him to Jeffrey. _“If he ends up dead I’ll be pissed,”_ Desmond said.

 _“I’ll be sure to keep him safe then,”_ Jeffrey promised. 

Desmond watched and Jeffrey left with the thief. The retrofitted mosque was now empty of a soul except Desmond. When the door closed behind the cardinal Desmond doubled over, crouching as he did so and put his head between his knees holding back a scream.


	22. Phoenix

It was a true act of fate that the day Desmond finally left 'his' church it rained. Not hard, but but more than a drizzle. It'd been four days. Four days of Desmond keeping himself shut into the refurbished mosque. He was still angry, mostly at himself but he was happy to blame anyone without eyesight for his anger too. In four days he'd felt few things other than anger or disgust for his entire situation. He hadn't felt like this since he'd been in the Animus as Ezio when he was a young man, hell bent on vengeance, sometimes so enraged at night he couldn't sleep and would fly across rooftops looking for an excuse to stab someone. It was a burning, passionate, fury that made him so angry he sometimes couldn't see straight.

Jeffrey made sure food was given to him every day, though he never saw anyone. The few times people looked into the church he'd just glare at them and they'd quickly duck out again. A pallet and new clothes were given to him too, so he didn't have to sleep on the floor in just his under armor. They weren't his old clothes, but they fit and they kept him warm. He couldn't ask for much more, so he didn't. 

He didn't talk to anyone for four days, or leave the church. Instead he stayed there and thought. He didn't let himself feel sorry for himself for more than a day. After that he couldn't. Desmond didn't have _time_ for that He needed to figure out what to do.

What he needed to do was find his ancestors. The ambush site was a few miles outside of Gafsa, they'd never let him go. He knew Altair was out there though, who knew how long it'd take him to Wake up. The others he'd been told had all been shot cleanly through the head and then dumped. So they just had to regrow parts of their brains and skull. He said it like it was so easy. He didn't even know how long that would take. He needed to see the grave though. Just so he knew they were there.

Though he didn't want to Desmond knew he needed to talk to Jeffrey. He didn't know where the graveyard was and no need to get men with guns sent after him for wandering around by himself. So he left the church and easily found himself where the cardinal had held him before. Though Gafsa itself was rather large the occupied part of the city was tiny in comparison. He saw people looking at him from their windows. Desmond just hunched his shoulders and tugged his collar up. He wanted a hood. It probably wouldn't be too hard to get one, he _was_ a ‘god’ after all. Didn't gods get what they wanted?

There was a man with a gun standing in front of the door he wanted. They looked down as he approached. Desmond made sure to stay in Eagle Vision as he did so, the man shimmered in red, but a lesser red than Jeffrey. This man wasn't a Templar. "I want to see the cardinal," he said in Arabic and looked up when a fat drop of water landed on his nose.

"Of course, your holiness," the man said and opened the door for him. More rain started to fall, not hard, but a consistent slow rain. "He's in the back room," the man pointed.

Desmond blew him off as he went to find Jeffrey. He found the red garbed man in the room with several other men. They wore priest robes and shined the same shade of red: Templars. All of them. They didn't notice him at first but then one noticed him and sneered at him. Jeffrey no doubt had told them he wasn't a proeathan. But them looking as him made the others stop and look. Jeffrey turned in his chair, " _Ah, Seventeen,_ " he said pleasantly. _"So good to see you out and about. What can I do for you?"_

 _"We need to talk,"_ Desmond said flatly.

_"Of course, in just a few-_

"Now," Desmond said. His voice tainted with more than a small promise of violence. The cardinal and not a few priests swallowed. Desmond might have been a cobra in a room of mongeese, but he was _still_ a cobra.

 _"Gentlemen, if you'd excuse us,"_ Jeffrey said and motioned to them. They got up and Desmond stepped out of the doorframe so they could leave. They eyed him as they walked past and he met each of their eyes with a golden eyed stare. Not one of them could maintain eye contact for more than a second. Desmond closed the door once they were all gone so it was just him and the cardinal. He leaned against the door, arms folded across his chest, Eagle Vision flicking off with a blink.

 _"Now, Desmond,"_ Jeffrey said, turned towards him, fingers steepled on his stomach, _"What can I do for you? I see the clothes fit."_

 _"They do,_ " Desmond said without feeling. _"Take me to the graveyard you buried my friends in."_

_"Now?"_

_"Yes. Now."_

_"It's raining out."_

_"Tough shit. I want to see the grave,"_ Desmond said cooly. It'd been at least a week since Altair had died. _"I also want to know the manner in which the sentry was killed."_

_"Why? Is it important?"_

_"Yes."_

Jeffrey sighed, _"I don't know why you want to know,"_ he admitted, slightly exasperated. _"We have a sniper amidst us. She went out with the ambush party and took care of it,"_ he explained.

_"One of yours? None of these grunts I've seen look like they could wield a sniper rifle."_

Jeffrey chuckled, like he was amused. _"Yes. She's... one of ours. On loan from another division of our operation,"_ he explained. _"She's very good. The way I heard it she took out your sentry with one hit. I do love people trained to do their jobs especially well."_

So they'd all been shot in the head. Good to know, still Altair had probably been killed by a higher caliber bullet than the others. He'd seen what sniper rifles could do. They made your insides into your outsides and turned your organs into a knot. 

_"When was the last one killed?"_

_"Why are you so concerned?"_

_"I want to know. Now tell me,"_ Desmond said.

The cardinal rolled his eyes, _"Very well. The last one was killed a few hours before we woke you up. Quite remarkable, you slept through an entire day and very little we could do would wake you up. I was informed that a good slap did the trick though."_

 _"I bet the guy who did it is shitting himself thinking he smacked a god,"_ was Desmond's dry reply.

Jeffrey chuckled, _"I've assured him that you won't be taking action against him."_

 _"I still want to go to the graveyard,"_ Desmond said.

Jeffrey looked out the window with a sigh it was raining, still not hard, but definitely raining. " _Very well."_

 _"I also want another jacket,_ " he said.

_"Hmm?"_

_"I want one with a hood."_

Jeffrey chuckled, _"You Assassins and your hoods,"_ he grinned slightly. _"Very well. We'll get you one,"_ with a grunt he pushed himself out of the chair. _"Wait here, I'll arrange for some umbrellas, and that hood,"_ he said, smirking at Jeffry.

Desmond moved so Jeffrey could open the door and as the older man was going to pass through Desmond smacked his arm across the door. _"You be sure to watch what you do Jeff,"_ he said quietly. _"And if it's your game to kill me, I sure as fuck hope you've made peace with your god, because there will be no where on earth you can hide from the proeathans."_

Jeffrey didn't seem concerned, _"We... have an understanding Mr. Miles,"_ and Desmond dropped his arm. Jeffrey passed through and Desmond watched him. After a few seconds Desmond decided his gut feeling was right. Jeffrey was lying. He wasn't sure quite about what, but he was definitely lying about something. Desmond was missing something from the big picture, but he wasn't quite sure what that was or how to find that out.

Desmond only had to wait a few minutes before Jeffrey came back. He had a large black umbrella with him and two jackets, both hooded, and handed them to Desmond. Desmond peeled off the top shell of his clothing and then the thinner jacket under it. He was now standing in just his under armor and a t-shirt. On went the soft hooded sweatshirt with zipped up and upon looking the other jacket was a rain coat. He pulled on his outer shell, hugged the hood up to cover his buzzed head, and then on went the raincoat, which was done with buttons. _"Shall we?"_ Jeffrey asked once he was dressed.

 _"Lets,"_ Desmond said, yanking up the hood of the rain jacket. _"Could... I get my clothes back?"_ he asked as they left the building. Jeffrey opened his umbrella, Desmond was content in just his jackets.

 _"I'm afraid not,"_ Jeffrey frowned.

 _"Why not?"_ Desmond asked as he followed Jeffrey down the street. Really though, why couldn't he just get his own clothes back. They were nicer and he'd worn them in to be fantastically comfortable.

_"Everyone was very excited about you being here. When they found out we had some of your clothes... They thought you'd let us have it-_

_"... What happened to my clothes?"_ Desmond asked again, eyeing Jeffrey so hard it was ridiculous.

 _"Well... it..."_ he chuckled a little nervously, _"it got cut up,"_ he admitted.

 _"What? Why?"_ Desmond would have stopped at that remark, but Jeffrey kept walking. At the least, thanks to the rain and probably his hood people weren't looking at him  through their windows.

 _"It's a holy relic Seventeen,"_ Jeffrey said, obviously. _"You proclaimed yourself a proeathan, with the look to back it up. Of course, some of us know otherwise..._

 _"Why didn't you tell them I was a fraud?"_ he asked.

 _"Because young man, hope is a noose that knows no equal,"_ and Desmond felt his stomach bottom out. _"They see you, a proeathan who's kind to them they get hope that things can be better, that they aren't really at the bottom of the food chain. People need hope."_

_"That's why you started these pockets of new religion, isn't it?"_

_"A community around a central religion does tend to offer hope to those within it's grasp hope as well,"_ Jeffrey admitted.

_"So what are they? Cattle?"_

Jeffrey looked at him, shocked, _"Heavens no."_

 _"Then what is this place? Why do the proeathans let you live, I have on good authority they want to wipe our entire species,"_ he said thinking of what Morpheus had said of Saturn. They'd left the main area of Gafsa and were walking to an edge. The rain was constant, though didn't pick up. There was no one around and other then their voices and the rain on Jeffrey's umbrella no noise.

_"Because they are merciful-_

_"Don't gimmie that shit. They hate us. Tell me. There's no one around to stop me from snapping your neck,"_ he added.

 _"So violent,"_ Jeffrey said mildly.

 _"I'm a product of my environment,"_ Desmond said. _"Now what is this place?"_ he demanded.

Jeffrey didn't say anything for several moments, Desmond could see the plot for the graveyard because of the markers sticking up, then, _"It's a lab."_

Desmond grabbed him by the front of his shirt. _"A_ what _?_ " he hissed.

 _"It's a lab, for the proeathans-"_ Desmond hit him, _hard_. Only because Desmond was holding him he didn't fall. _"That was unnecessary,”_ he said, making a face as he did so, touching where Desmond had hit him.

 _"Shut up,"_ Desmond snapped. _"You're just as responsible for this shit as they are. You deserve it and worse."_

 _"I'm just a messenger,"_ Jeffrey said blandly.

 _"Yeah well I've done a lot worse then kill a messenger,"_ Desmond hissed, leaning close to Jeffrey's face. He glared at Jeffrey who seemed a bit concerned for his own safety and there was no noise but the rattle of rain on the umbrella. Then Desmond released him, shoving him away and headed for the graveyard on his own. His boots squished in the dirt on the road and he didn’t look to see if Jeffrey was following him.

He reached the graveyard and found the plot he wanted. It was new, and large. The three of them had been thrown into a mass grave. Desmond frowned deeply at that and rubbed his face. His hand was wet and cold, thus making his face wet and cold. How did he get the others out of there? He knew they could dig themselves out. Ezio had told him stories of times he’d been buried while Under and had to dig his way out when he Woke. He said Hawk had too, and Altair. They’d all had to dig their way out of graves before. But those were in coffins, this was not, and he assumed there hadn’t been rain to compound the earth.

Desmond didn’t know what to do. He could order them to be dug up, but that would just draw questions and suspicion. He could say to dig them up, put them in boxes and then bury them again but he didn’t want them to be dug up half healed and you could see that the gunshot wounds were healing. He jammed his hands into his pockets. There was no real easy way to do this.

Jeffrey came up behind him. _“Well, you’ve seen it. Satisfied?”_ he asked.

“ _Getting there,”_ Desmond said and looked out towards the shrub land around them. _“Which way did you ambush us from?”_

 _“That way,”_ Jeffrey pointed another direction. _“Slightly north east.”_

 _“Mmm,”_ Desmond continued to frown.

 _“Sir?”_ someone suddenly called. A woman. _“You said you wanted to meet me out here?”_ they sounded nervous, anxious. Desmond didn’t bother to turn and look.

 _“Yes my dear,”_ Jeffrey said pleasantly.

_“I don’t think-_

_“Now now, nothing to be worried about,”_ he assured her. Desmond was still trying to figure around how to get the others out without letting everyone know.

 _“This isn’t how it should happen,”_ she said. _“This isn’t what they want.”_

 _“We’re moving things along early. I’m sure they’ll understand,”_ Jeffrey assured her.

 _“They don’t like it when you break out,”_ she said curtly and the tone made Desmond straighten. It sounded familiar and made a shiver roll down his spine in a bad way.

 _“It’s fine,”_ Jeffrey said. _“Better this way, we need to stabilize the situation.”_

 _“To hell with you,”_ she hissed and it _really_ sounded familiar. Desmond finally turned. The woman’s face was blocked by a black umbrella and her clothes made her look bigger than she was. _“Now you’ve done it,”_ her words were still directed to Jeffrey.

_“Might as well not keep him in suspense anymore.”_

_“Fuck you,”_ she told him, her tone clipped and each word was like someone was whapping him in the head with a small hammer. There was something amazingly unsettling about her tone, her voice. Like something from a dream.

_“Well you did kill the sentry. Maybe you should apologize.”_

_“I hate you,”_ and then she clearly turned to Desmond, but still didn’t raise her umbrella. Desmond leaned down to try and see under it, she adjusted it to keep the view of her blocked.

 _“Who are you?”_ he asked.

There was a silence. _“Just don’t… freak out,”_ she said.

 _“I’m living in a nightmare, I don’t think much can freak me out at this point,”_ he said dully.

She sighed and with a slight whine, like she hated what she was about to do she tipped her umbrella back. Desmond blinked and his face went totally slack. He blinked a few more times but couldn’t properly process what he was seeing. His mouth was definitely hanging open. She bit her lips and seemed amazingly uncomfortable, though he wasn’t sure if it was his staring or the fact that she… she. He couldn’t even think it. He just kept blinking and at one point even wiped his eyes, he kept thinking it was a trick. But she never went away. _“Hello, Desmond,”_ Lucy finally said after a long silence.


	23. Of a Different Feather

There was another long, long, silence, with only the sound of the rain on the umbrellas to interrupt them. Desmond was still trying to rationalize what he was seeing. Problem was it _wasn’t_ working. There was no way he could rationalize that the woman he’d _stabbed_ and _killed_ was standing in front of him with an umbrella.

All he could remember was all the awful dreams he’d had at first after he woke up from his coma five years ago. Watching himself do it over and _over_ and **_over_** again in his dreams and being unable to stop himself from burying his blade into her stomach. Or the ones that were worse and she was alive and smiled at him or playfully nudge him and then he’d wake up and she was gone. Those were by far the worst dreams. Unless you counted the ones with Venus, who wore her face like a mask, making it smile and talk and laugh in a way that was so un-Lucy it never made him miss her because he knew it wasn’t her.

But this was an entirely new and painful sort of torture. He could watch her breathe and she’d been the gunman Jeffrey had spoken of who’d killed the sentry, meaning she _was_ real. She wasn’t something he’d imagined. She was whole and real and still kept her hair back tight, though at this angle he couldn’t tell if it was in a bun or not. Her clothes gave her mass she didn’t have but he could imagine her curves that once upon a time had played a part in some dreams of a different sort. She looked extremely sad and apologetic standing there, like she knew what this was doing to him, what _she_ was doing to him.

It took him a couple of minutes to find his voice, and when he did he said, “No.”

“Yes,” she said softly, sadly.

“No,” he said again.

“I’m afraid so,” she sighed, her mouth becoming a bit thin.

“I killed you,” he said, because he’d come to terms with that bit a while ago. He could acknowledge what he’d done. It didn’t mean it made it any less painful though.

“You did,” she agreed. “But you should know better than anyone that just because someone is dead doesn’t mean they _stay_ dead.”

He glanced at Jeffrey, the older man didn’t seem to understand what she was talking about, meaning he didn’t know about the others. She did though. Of course she did. “Not like this,” he said.

“But it is,” Lucy said, still looking like she hated having to have this conversation with him, especially like this.

Desmond ran both of his hands over the top of his head to the nape of his neck, dislodging his hood as he did. Cold rain pinged off his buzzed cut head and he rubbed his head a little, his leather gloves slick on his skin from the water. He stared at her some more before a helpless bubble of laughter escaped his mouth. Then he just started laughing, throwing his head back, the sound echoing through the nearly empty city. It wasn’t a very good laugh though. It was the laugh of someone who was being pushed to their limit and needed a released, _any_ release. He laughed so hard he doubled over a bit, rain dripping off his head in fat droplets.

Finally he’d laughed himself out and stood up. Lucy and Jeffrey were now staring at him like he was nuts. To be fair he _was_ a bit nuts. Even without the Bleeding Effect he still had plenty of loose screws. Being the destruction of your entire species tended to do that to you. Being wracked with so much guilt tended to do that to you. “I’m done,” he said helplessly, still sort of laughing because he couldn’t hold it all back.

“What?” Lucy asked.

“I’m _done_ ,” and he held both his hands up by his head before turning and walking away from them. “I’m _so_ done with this.”

“Desmond, where are you going?” Jeffrey called after him.

“Somewhere not here,” and even as the old man called after him he took a running start at a wall and then ran up it, grabbing the ledge, his leather gloves giving him the friction he needed to hold onto the wet building ledge. Then he was climbing and was on the second story roof a few moments later. He stood up there and tugged his hood up. The cotton hood was damp but manageable, rain water slid down his back and now he was alone save for the sound of rain on the raincoat hood. He walked to the middle of the roof and looked around. From here he could get anywhere in the city, he could even just leave.

Desmond heard talking behind him. He moved back to the edge but not close enough that they’d see him if they looked up. “-after him,” Jeffrey said.

“No.”

“You made this mess-

“I did not! _You_ did this. There was a way they wanted it and you screwed up,” Lucy said. From here he could hear them but only if he listened as their voices were muffled by the distance, their umbrellas, and the rain.

“If you’d done what you’d supposed to do-

“Don’t pin this on me White,” Lucy hissed. “What did you think would happen?”

“For you to do what you were _brought_ here to do. You think I _like_ having a proeathan pet in my city?”

Lucy he slapped him. Desmond grinned a little. There was something wonderful about hitting old, evil guys. It was like squeezing a stress ball. “You will not talk to me that way White,” she informed him tightly.

“Well, you two make quite a couple, your first reaction is always violence.”

“I have been very patient with you up till now. As it is there is a limited time table to work with, there was only so much time-

“Which was why I bumped it up,” Jeffrey said.

“And now alienated him! I don’t think you properly understand what you’re dealing with White. You were a desk jockey before everything fell apart. That is a full blooded, fully trained, _Assassin_. Desmond isn’t the scared kid Abstergo picked up six years ago. He’s lived through two of the most prolific and dangerous Assassins the Order has ever seen. Beyond that he’s a prodigy who takes to fighting forms like a fish in water. He’s also been trained, extensively, by Masters, who have nothing _better_ to do with their time then to make sure he’s as prolific in the art of killing as they are. You aren’t dealing with some _man_ White, or even some Assassin, this is a Master of a different caliber than what you’re expecting, what _any_ of you is expecting.”

“He’s one man.”

“There are others. And they _will_ come. And now you’ve ruined everything! I may be a proeathan dog, but you’re the one who’s going to get beat for this.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Jeffrey demanded.

“Does it matter? He’s not here anymore. There’s no point to staying here. He’d probably halfway across Gafsa by now. You keep underestimating him White, and it’s going to end up with you _dead_ ,” and he heard the sound of first one umbrella in the rain recede, and then the other. 

Desmond stood there for a while and tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. He tried to be both surprised and hurt by learning that she was with the proeathans. But really, he wasn’t either of those things. He expected that honestly, there was no way she wouldn’t be. There was only one group who could bring someone back from the dead, and that was the proeathans. They wouldn’t let an asset like Lucy Stillman go from their grasp either, not when it was a potential hook and line to get him. And really that was why they did a lot of things; to get him. So he didn’t feel hurt, or betrayed by which side she was on.

Huh… well that was a surprisingly familiar feeling. Like when he’d been told she’d defected. He’d been upset at first, but had gotten over it quickly. She was dead and you shouldn’t hold anything against the dead, it did nothing for anyone. His ancestors knew about Lucy, they apparently watched all Abstergo moles from a distance at least. They’d told him about what had happened to her and Clay had filled in the rest when he’d met him. He really didn’t blame her for her actions, especially not then, and _really_ not now. He had a feeling she really didn’t have a say in the matter in the slightest either.

Desmond sighed, sputtering a bit. He had a lot to think about, and worry about now. First it had just been his ancestors, which he was _so_ excited about. Now… Lucy. He didn’t know what to do about that.

He did know one thing though. He was wet and cold and it wasn’t helping his stress. He turned and started over the rooftops. He found his way back to the church and dropped back down to the ground between it and another building. He looked through the windows and saw someone was in there but it was hard to see who as it was dark inside. He peered inside, eyes flashing from Eagle Vision to beyond to see in the darkness better. He frowned.

Lucy was in the church, her umbrella closed, facing away from him. Her hair was in a braid coiled into a bun in the back of her neck. As she turned around to face him he left the doorway and went around the side. A moment later she came out. As she stepped into the rain she opened her umbrella. Desmond watched her from around the corner of the church as she walked away. Once she was gone Desmond slipped back into the church and locked the door after him, sliding down against it with a sigh.

It really didn’t get any easier.


	24. Supercritical Airfoil

Breakfast came the next morning and Desmond stared at it long enough for it to go cold. He hadn't slept that night. He kept replaying what had happened at the graveyard and then the church. It occurred to him that he'd actually been scared of Lucy. He didn't want her to see him. It was stupid but he couldn't help it.

He didn't eat breakfast instead he had to figure out what to do with this new information. He couldn't come up with a good solution though. What did he do? Hide in here and hope she went away? It wasn't really something he could do at all. So then what the hell _did_ he do?

He was at a lose. This was one of those situations where he would have liked some ancestral help. The last time he'd met a doppleganger he'd wanted to kill it. So... did he kill it? The thought of hurting her was physically nauseating though. He knew he wouldn't be able to do it, even if he _had_ to. There was no way he could do that to himself again. It would all just hurt too much.

So that left him sitting in the church. He didn't feel sorry for himself, instead he just felt restless. Altair had been dead at least a week. He assumed he'd Wake soon. He'd been shot five times the last time he'd seen Altair be killed and that had taken only about two weeks. A broken spine a few hours. So between two weeks and a few hours Desmond decided he should Wake soon and then track them down. For a guy like Altair that shouldn't take too long. The others would be right behind him, they just had to dig themselves out of the earth. Maybe if Altair found him first Altair could keep watch over the grave, or dig them up, or something. Desmond was too visible. Just walking outside got people looking at him, so long as he didn't look back, and they spoke about him behind their hands. If he so much as glanced at them they went head down and obedient, all conversation dropping.

It was really distressing more than anything really.

While he was busy thinking the door opened. It must be lunch time. He didn't look up from where he was sitting against a pillar that held up the roof. The mosque was surprisingly warm and he was only wearing his light hooded jacket, it helped that it had been warm out today. The door closed, Desmond wasn't hungry.

He looked up when he heard footsteps. He swallowed when he saw it was Lucy, holding his lunch in a shallow bowl. "You didn't eat your breakfast," she said, standing a few feet away so he didn't have to crane his head to look at her.

"Not hungry," he said.

"You need to eat Desmond," and she took the final few steps over to him and crouched putting the bowl next to him. It was a soup of some kind, and steamed.

"What do you care?" he asked.

"What? Just because I died doesn't mean I can't care?" and he visibly flinched. "Sorry. That was mean, I didn't-

"What do you want?" Desmond just cut right to the chase.

"To talk to you," she said, putting her hands on her knees.

"Funny, in another life you told me to ignore ghosts," he said trying to keep detached and fired. He wanted to feel angry, because angry was familiar and safe. It was hard. Nearly impossible actually.

"I'm not a ghost."

"When what are you? Another clone the proeathans sent to torment me?" he demanded and felt the embers of rage flare up a bit. But it was hard to be angry at her.

She sighed, "I don't wait to torment you Desmond. That is the last thing I want. Please," she looked genuine at least.

Desmond took a deep breath and eyed her, "Fine," he allowed.

She sat across from him. "And eat," she said. He was about to refuse when she said, "These people have barely enough food to feed themselves. You not eating isn't sticking it to the proeathans, you're just wasting food others gave up so you could eat." He made a face but when she said it like that he felt bad. He picked up the bowl and put it on his lap. "Thank you," she said.

"Start talking," he ordered.

“Okay. Well, first, I want you to know that everything I’m going to tell you is the truth. I’m supposed to lie to you. I’m not going to. Do you believe me?”

He gave her a look, his eyes darting over her. “Why should I?”

“You did once.”

“That was a different situation.”

“You can believe me, or you can believe that I can call the proeathans here right now and tell them that not only am I with you but that the others are dead,” he swallowed. “Yes, I know about them too. They don’t know they’re dead, or that you’re here yet. They knew you’d come eventually, just not when.”

“Future’s a tricky thing,” Desmond said.

“Especially when scrying you,” she said. “Now please. I’m telling the truth.”

He didn’t answer at first and instead put the bowl to his lips to stall for some time. He drank a good bit of broth. “Okay,” he said when he put it down. “You’re telling the truth. So tell me what you are.”

"I'm not a what," she said angrily. "I'm a who, thank you very much," he deserved that though he supposed. "Who I am is Lucy Stillman-

"I stood on your grave. You just said no lies,” Desmond growled.

"I can't tell you how I came to be here now. I don't know myself. But I _am_ Lucy Stillman.”

"Well what what _do_ you know?"

"I remember dying," he flinched again, "I don't blame you," she added and it was an echo of five years ago at the Grand Temple. "Then, the next thing I remember is waking up in a tank. I don't know anything else."

"So you’re a clone?"

"I've assumed so," she agreed.

"Have you met mine?"

"Yes. I'm not a fan of his."

"And what, you're a fan of me?"

“More then him,” she said. “He might be you, but he went the opposite way. He’s a monster. Not like you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Desmond told her darkly.

“No,” she sighed, “I actually do.” She hesitated. “We were both grown in a proeathan base. Juno’s if you must know,” for a second he saw red but didn’t interrupt. “As soon as he was old enough they put him into a version of the Animus, it makes what we did look like child’s play, like we were stumbling along in the dark. He lived through all twenty-six of your years in about one.”

“What? How?”

“You are your own genetic memory, I thought that should be obvious. You can relive your own memories as easily as your father’s or Altair’s.”

“So even the bits where _I_ was in the Animus?”

“Yes, parts at least. And your coma. They wanted to know what had gone wrong, how it’d damaged you, see if they could recreate it.”

“Did they?”

“No. I’m not sure why. But he lived through it, and they made me sit and watch each of his sessions, so I knew you too,” she looked very apologetic about the whole thing. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, he’d finished his soup by now and set the bowl aside.

“For what you had to go through. I grew- no, she grew up in a place like your Farm. It was nothing like what you had to go through. I understand why you ran away.”

“At least someone does,” he said, face tight. “What are you doing here? What did the proeathans do this for?”

She took a deep breath, “Do you remember what Pluto said to you?”

“He said a lot of things.”

She bit her lower lip before saying, “He asked you to let them make you happy,” she said.

He stared at her and blinked, “That’s disgusting,” he said after a beat of soaking that in.

“Trust me, I think the plan is stupid myself,” she said. “But that’s what the proeathans did this for. I’m supposed to bring you back to them.”

“Well that plan is failing spectacularly with you telling me,” Desmond said sarcastically.

“I told you,” she said, “I’m telling you the truth. Also it’s what _they_ want. Not what _I_ want.”

“Do clones get to want things?” he asked her.

“I’m a person,” she said, “Just because I was grown instead of born doesn’t make me any less than that,” she spat at him.

He looked down, “Sorry,” he said softly. Then up at her, “I’m sorry. I just…”

“I know,” she glanced down briefly. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t even want to meet you here at all. It would be better if you thought I- she was dead.”

“What _was_ the plan? The one the proeathans wanted?”

“They know you still suffer some mental trouble. Dreams, sometimes things out of the corner of your eye. Everyone has those, you have them more often, it’s your mind compensating for both your visual stimuli and your brain telling you what you _should_ be seeing through the lens of your ancestor’s memories. They were going to use that,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a strange rectangle device with a small crystal sphere on the edge. “This is a Morph, proeathan word don’t worry about it,” she added to Desmond’s confusion. “It’s a piece of tech they made that apparently normally is to help children with night terrors and bad dreams for adults as apparently they’re very common in proeathans, especially after stasis.”

“What’s it do?”

“It lets you enter and examine a sleeping mind.”

“These guys, are so messed up,” he said as he realized what the purpose it should have had in Lucy’s hands.

“They _need_ you,” she told him. “I don’t know why. Once I’d implanted the image of me in your head I was supposed to start to appear out of the corner of your eye.”

“That would have driven me nuts,” Desmond told her.

“I know. They were counting on that, so when you did see me properly you’d be open to me.”

“That _was_ the plan?”

“Yes. I wasn’t planning on going through with it, just pretend I was. White ruined that.”

“So what’s the plan now?”

“I don’t have one,” she said.

“Same,” he said and after a second they both laughed. It was a broken laugh though and Desmond could tell it hurt her too. “So you know about the others?”

“Yes.”

“They’re dead right now.”

“I know that.”

“Was that planned?”

“No.”

There was a silence, “You shot Altair in the head,” and he laughed again. “He’s going to be so pissed,” though he was more amused, “it’ll hurt his fragile immortal ego to get killed by someone he couldn’t even see.”

“Oh, he saw me,” she said.

“He did?”

“I stood up when I did it so he saw.”

“Wow.”

“I figure it was just after all the stuff he put you through.”

“Well it’s not like I can slap him when he starts to get a hair up his ass.”

“Just complain to Hawk,” she reminded him.

“It’s really weird that you know all this already.”

“They made me watch, especially because I have other knowledge about your ancestors. Though not Hawk. He was… a surprise.”

“He was?”

“Ezio and Altair were movers and shakers in their time. One of your other ancestors from that time period was too. Hawk was very… quiet. We have no information on him, because we don’t even know his real name.”

“Huh. Well if it makes you feel better I don’t know jack shit about him either,” he said. She nodded. He sighed and leaned back against the column. “So, neither of us have a plan, and if the proeathans ever found out we’ll be screwed. What now?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly.


	25. Merlin

Desmond woke up on his pallet in the church. It was colder out than usual, and he was glad to have the blankets they’d given him. He saw breakfast by the door. A cold breakfast so he didn’t have to worry about it actually going cold. With a yawn he sat up and rubbed his buzzed head. He wanted his hat back, or a hat. His other had probably been cut up with his nice coat.

Like every morning he woke up before the others, or by himself, or when he stayed awake all night the first thing he did was undress. Off went all his layers till he was just under armor and gloves, and then that went off as well until he was standing in just his underwear. He did inventory of his glyphs, noting if they’d moved in the night, or grown. Sometimes they did move though for the most part they were stationary. They also grew at a slow rate and had covered the back of his thighs since they’d left Alexandria. They were already on his chest and had met up with his arms but so far his back was still untouched, at least as far as he knew. At least they weren’t on his face.

He was pulling on his under armor when the door opened. He had no idea why since they’d already left him breakfast. He looked up at the noise in time to see it close, though not who it was. Huh. Might have been one of the refugees. He tugged the rest of his clothes back on and picked breakfast up. Some bread, a bit of fruit, and what looked like a few spoonfuls of what could be oatmeal. Some sort of grain. At least they’d stopped trying to give him large breakfasts when he usually didn’t eat it anyway. He popped the fruit into his mouth and ate the bread with the grain on top of it just to save time, and he didn’t have a spoon anyway.

Yesterday had given him a lot to think about and he wasn’t quite sure where to start. Lucy hadn’t been able to stay for too long. Jeffrey was keeping an eye on her and apparently she was only supposed to bring him lunch. He didn’t know what to do and he still had to wait for the others to show up. He knew it’d be little to no problem to leave, hell he could leave whenever he wanted, who really could stop him? He needed to find out where their gear was though.

That sounded like a good plan for the day. He tugged his hood up and put on his boots. As he left the church he looked and saw Lucy was there, back against the wall, like she was waiting for him. She offered him a smile, “Good morning,” she said and it made him a bit pale. Venus could never do Lucy’s smile right. This was the smile she gave Desmond in the morning when he’d found her nursing a cup of coffee looking like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. It was tired by nice.

“Morning,” he said gruffly so his emotion didn’t show. “What are you doing here?”

“No need to sound so accusatory,” she said. “Since you know I’m here I… don’t have a reason to stay away.”

“What?” that was just confusing.

She sighed, “Remember what they made me for?”

“Yeah,” he said uneasily.

“I want to be with you. Well, more with you-

“Lets just not,” Desmond said. “I literally can’t do this.”

She sighed, “I know. I’m sorry,” she frowned.

There was a brief silence and then, because he really couldn’t help himself and he had to know, because he’d never had a chance to ask, “So before…?”

“I had feelings for you,” and that was he needed to know.

There was another brief silence, “Same. Can you help me?” he changed the subject. He _had_ to. If he didn’t it would swallow him.

“Maybe,” she pushed off from the wall, “What do you need?”

“I need to find our gear.”

“Easy. Follow me,” and she motioned. He followed when she turned and walked down the street. He didn’t get a lot of stares, even hidden ones. His hood clearly helped.

“How long has this place been here?”

“Gafsa? About three years,” Lucy said.

“And you?”

“A few weeks. They knew you’d be coming eventually, I needed to be here before you.”

“Do they know where I’m going?”

“Spain I think?” she looked over her shoulder at him. He nodded. “For some reason, even for them, you’re hard to scry.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” and she led him to a garage. There were cars in here that clearly still worked. He saw their ATVs. “Your rides,” she pointed. “We haven’t figured out how to turn them on.”

“It’s just a key,” Desmond said, confused.

“More then that,” she said and they walked over to them. “I assume Hawk modified them?” he nodded. Their bags were still there, though he noticed the ones with their food was gone. Desmond wanted to change his clothes, he’d been in the same ones a week and that was pushing it. “They’re coded for their rider, we can’t start them.”

“Huh, thanks Hawk,” he grinned and moved past her and picked out his bag. He unzipped it and pulled out some new socks, underwear, and under armor. The rest of his clothes were relatively clean thanks to the under armor itself. He checked through the other bags. “Weapons?” he looked at her.

“Confiscated.”

“And Hawk’s computer?”

“What?”

“It looks like a sheet of plexiglass,” Desmond said.

“Oh. White has that, he’s trying to turn it on.”

“Good luck,” Desmond snorted. “It needs Hawk’s blood.” She laughed softly. “Turn around,” he added, at her confused look he motioned with the clothes. She got it and turned around. Desmond shed his clothes and quickly changed. “Okay,” he said as he was pulling on his outer shell and yanking his hood up. He had to see what he could do about getting some water to scrub down with, he was getting gross and as a modern guy he was used to being clean. She turned back around as he stuffed the dirty clothes into a mostly empty bag they had _just_ for dirty clothes.

Desmond looked over the ATVs to make sure they were okay. After working on motorcycles for so long he had a good grasp on how engines and machines worked. Even if he’d never actually worked on cars or ATVs, he knew a bit more than basics and that was enough to get him through most situations. He quickly diagnosed that all the ATVs seemed to be fine and he checked his bag again and found his spare key (Jake had lost his first one, thankfully they had spares). The ATV started right up.

He turned it back off, “Do you have the Apple?” he asked her.

“An Apple?” she asked.

“One from Hawk.”

“Oh. Yes, we have that.”

“Okay good,” and he leaned against his ATV. “I’m going to need it.”

“Why? You can’t use it.”

“When he Wakes he’s ganna want it. I don’t want there to be a blood bath,” Desmond said. It was the truth. That was _his_ Apple and he was very protective of it. Not like it’d work for anyone else, but he didn’t like other people touching it usually.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucy said. “White is keeping all your gear.”

“Not for long.”

“Hmm?”

“They’ll be Waking soon,” he said. By the look on her face he knew she’d figured that. “I’d like to avoid unnecessary blood shed if possible. Though I have a feeling a few people are going to die anyway.”

“Like White?”

“Probably. If he’s the orchestrator of this fucked up town they won’t let him live.”

“He can’t die,” she said. “If he dies, the proeathans come,” she explained to his confusion. “He’s their stand in.”

“I thought he didn’t like the proeathans.”

“He told you that?” he nodded. “White _lies_. He’s a high ranking Templar and they all work for the proeathans out of choice.”

“He told me he wanted to kill me,” Desmond said, folding his arms over his chest.

“That’s stupid of him. If he kills you they’ll kill him. If he hurts you, they’ll kill him. The Templars are proeathan tools.”

“And you’re a dog.”

She swallowed, he tried not to feel bad for the jab. “Unwillingly,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to do what they say. Do you know what it’s like to be seen as nothing but a tool?”

“Yes,” Desmond said blankly.

“Right… well then you should know why I wouldn’t want to be that. Used by the Assassins, the Templars, and the proeathans. I tired of being thought of as a _dog_.”

“That’s why you’d rather help me? To spite them?”

“Good enough reason for me. They might have made me, but I don’t have to like them, or do what they want me to do.”

Desmond was quiet for a moment, “Good enough for me,” he said. “I would too.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Believing me.”

“Well I might be the only one who will when they Wake,” Desmond said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“They might kill me,” she agreed.

“It’s very probably. Our last run in with a clone didn’t end wonderfully.”

“Please don’t let them,” she said. “I don’t want to die again.”

Hearing her say that hurt. It hurt a lot. He’d killed her before. By his own hand. He could kill her again. “I won’t,” he said softly. He couldn’t watch her die again. “They’ll listen to me,” and she seemed greatly relieved. He felt bad though, she trusted him, just like she had before, to keep her safe. He’d failed once. What if he failed again? He felt the great hole in his chest yawn open wider than before.

They both looked at a commotion going on outside. He heard some heated talking. “What is the world?” Lucy said and made to leave the garage.

“I’ll give you one guess,” Desmond said, following her, he already knew what it was. He recognized the cadence of one of the voices.

“He can’t be awake already,” she said as they left.

“He could be,” he said and sure enough, down the street he saw some people arguing, clearly with a man they’d never seen. Altair was alive and whole, with some blood on his coat. He was arguing with the people and he looked irritated as hell. “Hey!” Desmond called, putting his hands in his pockets, everyone turned and looked. “Leave him alone, he’s with me,” and the people looked stunned and stepped away from Altair. Benefits to being thought of as a god apparently.

Altair walked over to him and Lucy, “There you are,” he said and then his eyes went to who was next to him. Altair’s eyes widened in surprise. Desmond watched him go into Eagle Vision and look them both over. Then, much to Lucy’s amusement, he said, “You’re the one who shot me."


	26. Flying at Speed

Not even missing a beat Lucy said, “Yes I did. I’d do it again too,” and Altair growled at her. She just smiled at him and wow Lucy was Desmond’s hero. He’d never seen someone give Altair so much shit in five seconds like Lucy just did. She was perfectly unafraid of Altair even though he knew she knew how deadly he was. She didn’t seem to care. It was sort of amazing and awesome actually.

“You’re dead,” Altair said.

“So are you. And yet here we both are,” Lucy said fearlessly. Desmond couldn’t get the image out of his head of Lucy doing those sort of super manly things people joked about like eating nails for breakfast. She’d just burned Altair. He didn’t think he’d ever seen that before, or that was even possible. Not even Jake burned Altair and Jake could push Altair around like he was a trained dog (sometimes, other times he was a real wild wolf)

Altair’s eyes just narrowed and Desmond saw him tense. For half a second everything went into slow motion before seeming to move too fast to see. Altair’s arm twitched and then swung forward at blinding speed, Desmond barely hearing the hiss of the hidden blade. Desmond moved at the same time and grabbed Altair’s arm. He’d never moved so fast in his life to grab Altair at the wrist and then smack the bony part of his elbow into the soft side of Altair’s making it go limp. The point of the blade was a hairsbreadth away from Lucy’s face before Desmond swept one leg and upset a confused and surprised Altair shoving him onto his ass and wrenching his arm up and over his head uncomfortably.

It all happened in about three seconds. If that.

Desmond blinked in surprise at where he now held Altair. He’d never moved that fast before. He wasn’t even out of breath as he realized what he’d just done. He’d just with Altair _at speed_. No, not just at speed, but assassination speed, which he knew was a lot faster than normal.

Altair seemed just as surprised as he was and it was only once Altair was on the ground did Lucy even have a chance to step back.

“What are you doing?” Altair finally found his voice and growled at Desmond.

“Restraining you?” Desmond was still amazed he was. He could never usually keep up with Altair at speed. Even in recent training Altair and Ezio beat the shit out of him and Jake during practice. Not literally, as they pulled punches, but that didn’t mean they weren’t beat. And yet… “Wow,” he said. “I kept up with you.”

“Yes, pat yourself on the back later. Let me go,” Altair growled.

“Heh. No,” Desmond said and made Altair wince when he pressed his arm down at an angle. With his other hand he unstrapped the hidden blade from his arm. He knew it was sort of like just taking one claw off a cat but there was literally no way to fully declaw his ancestors.

“What are you doing?” Altair demanded.

“Jake and Hawk aren’t here to whap you with a newspaper if you act up, so I’m taking precautions.”

“What?” Altair asked and tried to reach around to Desmond’s hands when he grabbed the other knife Altair had in his boot. Desmond just bent the arm hard and Altair hissed.

“No killing. At all,” and once he’d rid Altair of his weapons Desmond released him. Altair rolled his shoulder with a wince. Then Desmond turned to Lucy, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said though swallowed. Clearly she was a bit shaken by nearly being stabbed (again).

“Sure?” he asked.

She nodded, “I’m fine,” she promised.

“Want to explain yourself boy?” Altair asked as he stood up gracefully. Damn him to hell that he could be a murdering sociopath and still be graceful as all hell while doing it. “And her,” he pointed at Lucy.

“Clone sent to bring me back to the proeathans. Backfired on them.”

“So says who? Her?”

“Me,” Desmond said firmly, standing between Lucy and his ancestor like a shield. “You aren’t hurting her.”

Altair looked up at Desmond through slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re vouching for a clone?”

“Yes,” Desmond said clearly.

“You have a weird sympathy for those things-

“They’re _people,_ Altair,” he said.

“Perhaps I’m a bit old school then-

“That’s an understatement,” Desmond said.

“But things that are _made_ aren’t proper.”

“Says the man who can get back up after getting shot in the head K-33,” Lucy said.

“A what?” Desmond turned and looked over his shoulder at her. “There’s no such thing as a K-33.”

“Nothing human,” she said.

“She shot me with a _proeathan_ weapon? And really, you’re okay with that?” Altair asked.

Desmond looked back at him, “Yes.”

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

“Nope,” Desmond said.

Altair groaned and pulled on his face. “Desmond. She’s a fucking clone, that isn’t Lucy Stillman,” he made some hand motions as he talked to look more exacting.

“I know that,” Desmond said.

“Then why are you protecting it? You protected your own clone too and it actually wanted to kill you. Did you forget what he said? Primary objective; kill Desmond Miles. You have a prime objective too girl?” he demanded.

She blinked at them both before saying, “Primary objective,” and then a long silence.

“Well?” Altair asked.

“I failed it. I don’t have one anymore,” she said.

“Then what _was_ it?” Altair rolled his eyes.

“Bring Desmond Miles to Rome to be sent to the Gobi,” she said unerringly.

“What’s in the Gobi?”

“Apollo,” she said. “I’ll get in a lot of trouble for telling you this, if they knew,” she added.

Altair appraised her. “Desmond’s clone was helpful too,” he said trustlessly.

“We have a keen interest in our self preservation. I don’t want to die. Who actually _wants_ to die?”

There was a brief silence and then Altair said, “I do.”

“Wooow, okay this just got really heavy lets move on now,” Desmond said after another silence. “There are Templars here too.”

“There are?” Altair asked.

“Yes. Come with me, I’ll brief you on the situation.”

“Okay,” he looked over Desmond’s shoulder at Lucy. “She doesn’t come with us.”

“She can-

“That’s fine,” Lucy interrupted. “I already know the situation but if it makes you feel better,” she shrugged. “I’ll see you when I bring dinner,” and then she turned and left them. Altair scowled after her, Desmond just rolled his eyes. 

“C’mon,” Desmond motioned. “I’m set up in the church,” and he went back the way he and Lucy had come.

“This isn’t a church,” Altair said when they entered the old mosque.

“You’re telling me,” Desmond said. “It’s a church now, for some really fucked up new religion,” and he sat on his pallet.

Altair sat across from him, “How long was I Under?”

“A week thereabouts,” Desmond said. “The others should be Waking soon, but they’re in a mass grave. I’m too noticeable to watch or help dig them up.”

“They’ll figure it out,” Altair waved it off. “Hawk and Ezio have suffered being buried alive outside of a coffin before.”

“And Jake?”

“Worst thing that’ll happen is he suffocates. The others’ll dig him up and he’ll be Under again for a few hours. Nothing to worry about,” Altair shrugged.

“…Okay… So, I should probably start from the beginning yeah?”

“Yeah. And why the _hell_ you’re living in an old mosque.”

“Uh—

“What did you do?” Altair squinted at him.

“I… might have—

“ _Desmond_ ,” Altair sort of growled, clear that he wasn’t going to back off.

“I might have accidentally on purpose proclaimed myself to be a proeathan- what!” he cried when Altair actually face palmed. “They were going to lynch some poor guy and I stepped in and I-

“And you painted a target on your face. Good job,” Altair sighed painfully and rubbed his eyes.

“I needed to help him,” Desmond said firmly. “So I did.”

“You could have let it happen.”

“No. I couldn’t have,” Desmond said. 

Altair sighed again, “No, you couldn’t have,” he agreed. “Now, start in the beginning. I need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

“It’s bad,” Desmond said.

“I figured. Now; let’s hear it,” Altair ordered and Desmond proceeded to tell him, starting with him waking up a week ago in a basement.


	27. Cardinal Rule

On a list of bad ideas this was definitely not the worst Desmond had ever had. Altair might have something to say about that but… well Altair wasn’t here right now. He was at the graveyard, waiting. Meaning Desmond was on his own, sort of. Altair said in no uncertain terms to one; stay away from Lucy, and two; not leave the mosque.

So he did what any self respecting man did when faced with such rules. He broke them.

It wasn’t like he was in any danger here. Jeffrey had no reason to call the proeathans and Lucy wasn’t planning on doing so. So once Altair had left Desmond waited a bit and then did as well. It’d been two days since Altair had shown up, mostly trying to figure everything out, getting new clothes and forming a plan of action for what to do next. Which included Desmond staying out of sight and staying away from the Lucy clone. Like that was going to fucking happen. Altair should have known better. Telling Desmond not to do something was a sure fire way to get him _to do it._

So he left the mosque, hood up. Gafsa was pretty populated and even before Altair had shown up he’d been watching people from the mosque, just interested in what they were doing really. The world was different and changed and his life wasn’t exactly ‘normal’. But it never really had been. Even when he’d been traveling and ended up in New York for a while the normal bump and grind had never really been him. He didn’t really… get normal people. Like what did they do all day? Before all this shit, and after the Farm, his life had been travel and when it wasn’t travel it was work three jobs to stay afloat until he had enough money to travel again. He’d never had like, a normal life. Normal life, normal job, normal friends, normal girlfriend, normal apartment. Nothing normal. Now it was even _less_ normal and he’d seen a few different types of people so far, all of them reacting differently to this new, cold, world of theirs.

There’d been the Russian college students who’d tried to kill them for the house and supplies. There’d been that Russian father, who was taking care of his family and had wanted to kill Desmond over a _deer_. The group of Arabs in Alexandria who’d seemed sort of lost but didn’t want to actually hurt anyone, including Desmond. And now these people in Gafsa, all of who had converted to a new fucked up religion for some sort of remembrance of what ‘normal’ used to be. These were all the people Desmond had met since he’d woken up in that facility in Finland.

Thinking about that made a shiver work down his spine. It’d been warm there, and dark. Perfect. Sometimes… his ancestors were right to worry. What if he just stopped? Not just with this, but everything? He knew he couldn’t but… what if?

What if games had and would drive Desmond insane. He shook them away as he put his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and walked down the street. His hood was up and his eyes were golden. He’d told Altair to stay in Eagle Vision while he was here, clearly he was Desmond’s friend and if he pretended to be a proeathan he could get just about whatever he wanted. Important when his old clothes had been confiscated and his current ones had been blood and brain stained.

People were both looking at him and pretending to not look at him, it was more than a little weird. But hey they weren’t bothering him. Eventually he just went around to the side of a building, climbed up and sat on the edge, looking down, watching them.

The people of Gafsa were pretty normal, though not everyone spoke the same language. He heard several different European and African languages though couldn’t name them all. There was a lot of Arabic, French, and English though. Desmond assumed French had been a semi official language before all this shit had gone down. It made sense. They moved quickly and with purpose, though some loitered. It occurred to him that this was like, the main drag of the inhabited part of Gafsa, because it was the same street their church was on. Maybe there was another church, he didn’t know.

They were interesting to watch he decided. Sort of. It was like watching an army of ants. They just moved about on their own accord to keep the colony functioning. There was one thing he could say about this though. These people were _exceedingly_ nice to each other. They were polite and courteous and in general just seemed like nice people. Well, the end of the world could do that to you he supposed.

He didn’t realize what the time was until he felt someone behind him and twisted around to look. “Hi,” he said to Lucy who was standing there looking like she was mildly annoyed with his existence. What had he done now?

“Is this where you’ve been all morning?” she asked him, her hands on her hips.

“…Yes?” that was the right answer right?

She sighed and rolled her eyes, hands dropping to her sides. “ _Desmond_ -

“What?” he raised his hands a little. “I’ve been staying out of the way.”

“You’re freaking everyone out,” she said sort of sternly.

“Huh?”

“People aren’t blind. They see you watching them.”

“Oh… well-

“They think they did something wrong.”

“What?”

“You’re a _god_ ,” she rolled her eyes at that one, clearly she thought the same as Altair concerning not only Desmond’s ‘god’ problem as the proeathan ‘god’ problem. “And watching them from above.”

It took Desmond a second, “Oh… Oh fuck, sorry,” he said and stood up, getting away from the edge. Yeah he could imagine how uneasy that’d make everyone. “I didn’t even think of that,” he admitted.

“It’s okay,” she waved it off. “Jeffrey was just starting to hear things like that you were ‘selecting’.”

“Do I _want_ to know what that means?”

“They think that if a proeathan comes that they’ll select some of their group to take under their wing, or take away to some better place.”

“And this is bad?”

“How would you feel if a god did that?”

Desmond thought about that a second, “I can tell you it sucks,” he declared. By Lucy’s confused look it was clear she didn’t get it. “If anyone’s a god on earth it isn’t the proeathans, it’s my ancestors. Can’t die, at all, know everything, Altair is _practically_ omnipresent. They all act like pissed off gods as it is, and act like death incarnate. Trust me, I know.”

Lucy stared at him a moment and then laughed a little, “I never thought of it like that,” she said.

“Yeah, well the idea sort of grows on you till you don’t notice you’re living and eating with something that doesn’t actually die,” he sighed. “Easy to forget sometimes,” no it wasn’t. Your mortality was painfully obvious next to his ancestors. Lucy didn’t need to know that though.

“Interesting way of looking at it.”

“Yeah sometimes it-“ something stopped him as he caught something out of the corner of his eye. “Oh hell,” he groaned.

“Well, they do know how to make an entrance don’t they?” Lucy asked, amused. Apparently the others were Awake. And obviously after they’d been shot they’d been stripped because they were walking around nearly naked and covered in graveyard dirt. Desmond groaned and pressed his hand over his eyes. “It’s like having a bunch of embarrassing dads,” she said.

“You have _no_ _idea_ ,” he groaned.


	28. Flight Fight

Watching three people who’d just Woken eat was actually rather gross. As it was just finding enough food for three Woken was a task. Thankfully Desmond was a ‘god’ and could get what he needed. There wasn’t even a way Jeffrey could deny him without looking like a heretic or get a lot of people pissed off. So Desmond had asked for food and it had been given. He’d made it clear to the others that this was all they were getting for the day, since it was a lot of food and Desmond knew resources were stretched rather thin as it was. These people didn’t have the means to feed three Woken immortals with all the carbs and calories and proteins they really needed. They’d make do though. Just like Assassins should; they’d make do.

Hawk was focused on his food, Ezio was clearly trying to have a telepathic conversation with Altair and Jake… well Jake was half paying attention to his meal and the other half staring at Lucy. She’d helped Desmond bring in all the food into the mosque and clothes too and had been the one to shoo all the curious people away from the retrofitted mosque. Basically she’d been a god’s send because Desmond didn’t even know how to begin to explain three mostly naked men covered in grave dirt and mud and blood.

She’d sort of… made it all go away. Somehow he got the feeling he wasn’t the first person who’s messes she cleaned up on a fairly regular basis before all this shit had gone down. A guy like Vidic with a cute assistant. Probably put out a lot of fires her boss had started for being too intense. Or, you know, killing patients on the table. That could have been it too.

Jake couldn’t stop looking at her. Like he’d never seen a hot girl in his life. It was sort of funny. Lucy was just ignoring him. “Jake, food goes in your mouth,” Desmond told him when Jake missed his mouth for at least the dozenth time.

“Screw you, who’s the bitch?”

“Call me that again and you’ll never have children,” Lucy said in a very calm, totally uninterested tone.

“Oooo, I like her,” Hawk piped in. “And really Jake, no need to be so rude.”

“She just threatened to kick me in the nuts!” Jake cried.

“No she didn’t,” Hawk said broadly. Altair and Ezio were now looking at them. “She said she’d make sure you never had children. I can list about twelve different ways to do that without touching you,” he said around a mouthful of food. “And knowing Ms. Stillman’s background I’m sure she knows even more,” he gave her a slightly amused look.

“Tampering Mountain Dew is perhaps my favorite,” she said with a sly grin.

“Uhg,” Jake groaned.

“You can do that?” Desmond asked her.

“Yes, all you have to do is-

“Save us the science lesson Stillman,” Ezio groaned and rubbed his forehead. “What’s she even doing here?” he asked Altair. “We saw the Templars bury her body.”

“It seems Desmond isn’t the only one the proeathans cloned in the past five years,” was all Altair said, the air around him seemed especially chilled, and had become more so when Desmond had let Lucy stay.

“Great. More clones. Fantastic,” Ezio sighed before going back to eating.

“Anyone going to tell me who she is or am I going to have to risk bodily harm talking to the pretty lady again?” Jake asked. No one answered him. “You’re all great friends,” Jake said sarcastically before looking at Lucy. “So, who’re you?”

“Lucy Stillman. Nice to meet you in person Jake.”

“That’s unfair. You know me but I don’t know you. How do you even know that anyway?”

“I know… a great many things. Apologies, for your predicament,” she added.

“Yeah well how do you know it?” he asked.

“She’s a proeathan made human Jake. How do you think she knows?” Altair asked sarcastically. “Proeathans told her. She’s their little pet.”

“Hardly,” she ignored Altair’s glare. “That would be Desmond’s clone. He’s a good boy, unlike the actual article,” she gave Desmond a little, approving, grin. “And why I know is a lot more horrifying and terrible than just them telling me.”

“Going to share with the class?” Ezio asked, somehow speaking around a huge mouthful of food.

“I’d rather not,” she said. “I’d… rather not think about it.”

“Yeah well-

“She’s told me,” Desmond cute Ezio off. “If you wanna know ask me later cause I agree, I’d really rather not think about it.”

“Fine,” Ezio huffed. “So what’s your kryptonite doing here without a leash?” he continued, to Desmond.

Desmond looked at her, then back at Ezio, “Not being on a leash,” he said, speaking pointedly to Ezio to not say shit like that. “She wants to help us.”

“Yeah, help us right into a trap,” Ezio grumbled into his food.

“If I wanted to do that trust me, I would have shot all of you from afar and Desmond wouldn’t be here anymore,” Lucy said smartly. “Proeathans would have been called and you’d all be in cryo for them to experiment on you. They aren’t though, because I hate them as much as you hate them.”

“I thought the created didn’t hate their creators,” Jake said.

“Why not?” she asked him. “They made me do things, or planned to make me do things I will never forgive them for. They gave me life and—” she stumbled here and then took a deep breath before she continued. “And you all must know what it’s like to die and come back. Only I don’t know what’s real. What isn’t. I remember dying-

“But you aren’t like us,” Hawk had finished his food and got to his feet. “They implant the old thoughts right into your head?” he asked, coming over to her. She didn’t flinch away from him. “Or make you relive everything through an Animus?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “When I woke up after I… I died I knew everything that had happened to me before that point. I mean I have memories of a mother! A human mother.”

“You have no mother,” Altair growled.

“I know that!” she snapped at him. “I was born in a lab with Desmond’s clone. But I have all the memories from the original, all her hopes and dreams and fears and feelings. It’s hard to tell what’s real, and what she was.”

There was a silence, like no one knew quite what to say to that. Then, of all people, Jake said something, “I know how that feels. It gets easier.”

“How would you know?” Ezio asked him, giving him a look.

“Hello, Earth to Ezio? Did that last death addle your brain or something? Or did you spontaneously forget what goes on inside my head thanks to your Hawk?”

“I try not to think about it,” Ezio admitted.

“Two memory chains,” Jake frowned, “Not like you though,” he looked at Desmond.

“I’m just Bled,” Desmond shrugged a little.

“I remember a full life that isn’t mine. Consider yourself lucky.”

“At least you know the difference,” Lucy said.

“Do I?” Jake asked. “Sometimes I’m not always sure.”

“So what do we do with her?” Ezio asked. “She’s a proeathan clone and we’re just letting her hang around?”

“Against my wishes,” Altair growled.

“Yeah well not everything is about you Altair,” Desmond rolled his eyes unimpressed. “I know that’s a shock but it’s true.”

“You should respect my wisdom on these things,” Altair nearly glared at Desmond from under his hood, which he’d been wearing up since he came back to Gafsa. “Regardless. We have a plan and she’s a bump.”

“Let me come with you,” she said.

“Absolutely not,” Altair and Ezio said at the same time.

“Why not?”

“Did you miss the part where you’re a clone?” Ezio asked.

“And if you leave me they’ll know I failed. They’ll kill me.”

“Not our problem,” Altair said..

“It is.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You’re all old, but you all still live by the first tenet-

Altair actually laughed. It was an ugly, mean, laugh that made Desmond’s hackles raise. “That’s rich. You’re no innocent. You’re a participant. By definition that makes you exempt and the only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I value Desmond’s mental state,” and now Desmond glared at him. Wow way to make him seem like a child who needed coddling. That was all his ancestors had been doing to him since he woke up.

“Unwillingly,” she said.

“Don’t care.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Don’t know what you expected Stillman. You’re not my priority, he is,” he pointed at Desmond. “And as far as I’m concerned, you’re in the way.”

“Wow way to talk about like I’m not here,” Desmond said.

“Quiet kid. You fucked up here. You get to listen.” Desmond’s cheek twitched. “See yourself out,” he added to Lucy, his voice low and dark. “We’re leaving soon and I don’t want you around to blather to the proeathans where we’re going.”

Lucy took a moment, trying to figure if she should fight this or not. Then she turned for the door. “Wait,” Desmond said. She stopped and looked at him.

“Desmond-

“She can stay,” Desmond spoke over Altair and spoke just to him.

“She’s one of them-

“And I was in a statis chamber for five years. How do you know I’m not waiting for the right moment to fuck you all over?” he asked. “Or what if I’m a clone too? What if the real Desmond is dead too? Or still in a base maybe and you never found him? Maybe I’m just a fucking plot twist.” There was a long silence. Clearly it had never occurred to them that their Desmond wasn’t the genuine article or that he could be a sleeper agent. “A lot can happen in five years,” he said.

“Don’t say that Desmond,” Ezio said.

“Yeah, but what if?” he asked them. “Just cause those assholes made her doesn’t make her bad, and doesn’t make her involved. She’s right. She’s innocent.”

“Is not,” Altair said.

Desmond looked at her under Eagle Vision, she was gray to him, blue barely seeping under the edges of her skin. Then he looked at his ancestors, “Looks it to me,” he said and let his vision fade back. Three sets of eyes blazed gold, one after another and he saw Lucy shift a little, uncomfortably under their critical gaze.

“Innocent,” Hawk proclaimed.

“Same,” Ezio said.

“Altair?” Desmond asked when the ancient didn’t answer.

“… Gray,” he sighed.

“She’s staying, and if she wants to come she can. We’re the only ones who can help her.”

Altair rubbed his eyes, “Fine,” he said in a pained tone. “If she wants to come she can help us get ready.”

“Tell me what you need,” Lucy was quick to say. Altair gave her a narrow eyed gaze, clearly not trusting her.

“Hawk,” Altair said, snapping his fingers at him. Hawk grinned at her and Desmond foresaw that Hawk was going to enjoy this.


	29. Liftoff

Altair’s blade was covered in blood as he came out of the office Jeffrey had been in, the Apple in one hand, Hawk’s glass computer under the other arm. He handed them both to the younger immortal who gladly took them. Desmond heard the Apple’s soft song when he fell back into Hawk’s hands and gave off a brief burst of light. All was well here. Altair sort of looked alive in a way he hadn’t seen in a while. Eyes bright and fierce, gone in a killing lust at letting his blade taste blood, and not just any blood, but Templar blood.

In the past two days Lucy had been all too willing to tell them everything about Gafsa and Jeffrey. Clearly she wanted to be useful and for Altar to not hate her. She knew he didn’t trust her, and might never do so, but he hated her a bit less than he had at first. She’d arranged for everything and was now waiting with them when Altair came out of the room with their more sensitive gear including the Apple, the computer and their weapons.

Altair passed out the weapons. Desmond took his hidden blade and strapped it to his right arm, over the under armor and under his jacket, glad to have the comfortable weight of the thing back against his skin. He watched nearly a dozen throwing knives vanish on Ezio’s person after testing the weight of one, flipping it end over end before catching it by the end of the sharp end and tucking it away into his clothes. Hawk had his white cane-sword which was telescoped out briefly before compacting again and going into his pocket along with his Apple which got tucked into a jacket pocket.

Jake wore a hidden blade as well, which surprised Desmond, he’d never seen Jake use one. But he supposed that was the point. But Desmond practiced with his, Jake didn’t, and had another knife he used more. He wore it on his right hand as well, which made no sense to Desmond. Hidden blade were off hand weapons and Jake was right handed, Desmond was ambidextrous, but preferred his left. When he caught Desmond looking he grinned at him, “More comfortable like this,” and he grabbed his left bicep where the large scar was. Oh. Right. Malik in his head had used the right handed hidden blade.

“What about you?” Desmond asked Lucy, since she had no weapons, though he knew she wasn’t defenseless.

“They’re locked up,” she said with a shrug.

“Why?” he asked taking his secondary knife from Altair and putting it on a slot on his belt.

“So I can’t use it against them. They trained me in proeathan weapons, mainly range, once I was old enough. I have a few in a locker, Jeffrey had the combination for it.”

“What sort of weapons?” Hawk asked.

“Guns, four of them. K-33, Helora, M2 Riccher and a Hen.”

“A hen?” Hawk rose his brow at her.

“Yes.”

“What other sort of toys you got in that locker girl?”

“Back up Morph, a Sword, few packets of shell.”

“What’s shell?”

“Like band aids, only better. Creates a second skin on your wound, seals it up tight. Handy out on the field where medical equipment in scarce. Also left me with a Rodger.”

“What’s that do?”

She smiled, “Get the locker open and I’ll let you play with it, hows that sound?”

“Ooooou it’s like Christmas. Lead the way, I’ll get your locker open little lady,” Hawk smiled at her

“We’ll meet you two at the garage,” Altair said.

“Sure thing,” Hawk nodded. “C’mon Blondy, lets get some toys,” and he followed her away from the others.

“Well, Hawk likes her,” Jake said thoughtfully, “I thought Hawk didn’t like anyone.”

“He’s selective,” Ezio said. “And he also doesn’t get it. He likes her cause she can stimulate his mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind her stimulating somethin’ else,” Jake said and and actually flinched when Altair glared at him, though he wasn’t even looking at Altair to see it. He just felt it.

“Have some class,” Desmond sighed.

“Yeah sure. Like you wouldn’t hit it,” Jake said.

“Jake,” they all said with a slight groan.

“Garage,” Altair ordered and started walking. They all fell into step behind.

“Are you sure it was a good idea to kill him?” Desmond asked Altair as they left the Cardinal’s office behind.

“He was a Templar. There have been a few good ones but as old as I am I have only met so many. They prescribe to an ideal that is inherently dangerous to us, themselves, and the world. One world, under one rule; theirs. Or in this case the proeathans. They’re making themselves important to the proeathans by doing what they want so when the shoe drops they are in better standing, because trust me when stuff like this happens; the shoe always drops.”

Desmond shot Ezio a curious glance when the Italian suddenly looked uncomfortable. “What do you ‘stuff’? When has something like this ever happened before?”

“January nineteen thirty-three,” Altair said.

“What happened then?”

“Adolf Hitler of the Nazi party was elected as president of Germany,” and Desmond felt all the blood leave his face. “I haven’t seen death like that in a long time. I could name some others but he’s the face of even yeah?” he said a bit quietly. “It started off good, just like it always does but, like everything, the other shoe dropped.”

“Right,” Desmond said. “But with him gone the proeathans will come. He said this place was a lab and he was at the head. They’ll kill everyone, won’t they?” Altair didn’t answer him. “Won’t they?” he demanded.

“These people are already dead, they just don’t know it yet,” Altair said in a detached manner. Altair knew he was damning all these people, these innocents. “Sooner, rather than later, the proeathans would be done playing their game. They’d come.”

Altair didn’t need to finish. Desmond didn’t like it, but he got it. Eventually the experiment, whatever it was, would be over and the proeathans would have no more use or need for this lab. It wouldn’t matter who ran it or who was already dead. Everyone here would meet an end, and they were all so hyped up on the fact that proeathans were gods that they’d probably welcome their murderers with open arms. It left a bad taste in Desmond’s mouth but he knew Altair was right.

“What about the other priests?” Desmond asked.

“Non Templars. Just idiots.” Oh well that was something at least.

They arrived at the garage and got their shit together. They’d already packed provisions and new clothes (and some of their old clothes), they’d been carrying it around with them and now they strapped it to the back of the ATVs with straps and bungee cords. Then they waited. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait too long before Hawk and Lucy reappeared. Hawk was carrying some sort of thin and light looking assault rifle with a curved stock and a scope, fiddling with it. Lucy was carrying the other three which comprised of what Desmond assumed was the K-33 sniper in a bag across her back and another rifle, this one looked similar to a human shotgun but there was something off about it he couldn’t place. The last was amusedly a handgun he couldn’t see.

Hawk handed Jake his bags, “Put those on would ‘ya?” Hawk said distractedly. Jake looked a second from disobeying but knew it wouldn’t help. Hawk was ignoring him and playing with the assault rifle.

“Someone looks engaged,” Ezio said mildly, leaning on the handlebars of his ATV, grinning slightly.

“Huh?” Hawk asked, looking up at him, Ezio laughed.

“Earth to Hawk. We’re getting ready to leave, you can play with the toy when we get home,” Ezio teased him.

“But daaad.” Hawk whined and Desmond and Jake joined Ezio with he laughed. “Right,” and Hawk pulled a strap out from the gun itself and put it across his shoulders, fitting it across his back.

“You get everything?” Altair asked.

“Yeah. Fucking sweet toys they let her have. I can’t even fathom some of the physics involved to make the Rodger work,” he looked at Lucy. “You’re going to let me take it apart,” he said firmly.

She laughed softly, “If you can, be my guest,” she said. “Who wants to carry the Hen?” she lifted the shotgun looking gun.

“Me,” Ezio said and she gave it to him. “Where’s the ammo go?”

“Guys,” Altair groaned, “Later. We’re leaving remember?”

“Right,” Ezio strapped the shotty to the back of his ATV.

“And what about the one on your back?” Jake asked her/

“That stays with me. It’s my favorite.”

Altair looked a second away from protesting, “Alright. Lets go then,” Desmond said and turned on his ATV. “Who’s Lucy riding with?” No one answered, and Hawk only mainly cause he was so far in his own head he barely managed to not fall off his ATV just sitting on it. He sighed, “You’re with me then,” he told her and nodded his head behind him to the back seat which was more of just more of the front seat.

“I wanna make the coast by dark tonight-

“Altair it’s already dark,” Jake said. Altair just sent him a look. Jake grinned at him without fear.

Altair turned on his ATV and pulled his goggles down, “Lets go,” he said and pulled on the throttle. Clearly he wasn’t happy to leave before the others had even started their four wheelers. Jake was after him in a second. Ezio wheeled over to actually turn Hawk’s ATV on and get him to pay attention.

Desmond looked at Lucy, “C’mon,” he said. Lucy hesitated, stalled a moment to adjust first the K-33 and then her hat before stepping up onto the foot rest and throwing her leg over the side. Desmond did his best to just not do anything when she settled down behind him. “Ready?” he asked, yanking down his goggles. Hawk was gone and Ezio was waiting for them.

She shifted behind him a moment, probably pulling down her own goggles, and then wrapped her arms around his waist and lightly pressing against his back. “Yeah,” she sad, her voice close to his ear. Oh this was a terrible idea.

“C’mon Des,” Ezio called, “Don’t want them to get too far ahead.”

“C-coming,” Desmond said and pulled on the throttle and followed Ezio out of the garage. They were just leaving Gafsa when the first alert that the Cardinal had been killed went out. Then the city was swallowed up by the night.


	30. Molluscivorous

After leaving Gafsa it took only a few days to hit the sea. Desmond was glad to see it, it meant they were closer to Hera, whoever that was, whatever she was like. The few warnings Morpheus had given them played in his head when he lay awake at night staring at the stars. His eyes always found the Unnamed, and then Morpheus, he wanted to learn the others too. Maybe when he visited Hera he'd get to see her constellation. That'd be an interesting way to learn them.

They'd stopped for a few days in a small abandoned city along the Algerian coast. Desmond didn't know which city, he couldn't read any of the signs. It didn't matter where they were. They were here to find a boat and sabotage the ATVs if they couldn't be brought aboard. His ancestors had found a boat in a dry dock that needed work as most of those in the water had been overcome by the sea and covered in barnacles. They wanted to find a better one though.

Desmond was walking the pier, they were all at the docks, looking for boats or useful items. He and Jake had raided several old stores, it had been slim pickings. Their rations from Russia and their excursion across the top of Africa had been confiscated and redistributed in Gafsa and the meager supplies they'd managed to get were dwindling. They needed more food and fresh water, Hawk was working on a small scale desalination pot to give them clean water from the sea. He needed more time though.

Desmond paused at the edge of the dock and looked down. He saw shellfish growing on the pillars. After staring at them for ten minutes he'd decided two things. One: he recognized them as a breed of mussel you could eat. And two: he was getting them. because he was tired of the same food every meal.

The cool air bit at his skin as he shed his outer layer, cold seeping through the thinner other layers, it was warmer though now, in the middle of the day, but it was still nippy. He yanked off the other layers even stripping off his under armor till he was just dressed in his underwear. He reached down into his pile of clothes, his skin covered in goosebumps, and pulled his knife from the pile.

"Desmond?" as he stood back up he heard someone say his name. On the adjacent dock, across about fifteen feet of water, was Lucy, staring at him like he was crazy. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Fishing," Desmond said with a cock sure smirk and jumped off the edge of the dock. He heard Lucy call his name as he hit the water with a splash.

Cold water rushed along his entire body and he got worse goosebumps. But his head was under water. it was better. He broke the surface long enough to take a gulp of air but not much else and then dove down. He made it to the level the mussels were on and used his knife to pry them off the wood. Desmond could hold his breath for a long time, about two minutes, so he had time to work and actually get a good number of mussels to release their grip on the pillar.

When he breached the surface, gasping for air Lucy wasn't the only one on the dock. Altair and Jake were with her now. "Desmond," Atair said in that stern dad voice he could do.

"Hi," Desmond said with a grin, treading water.

"What on Earth are you doing?"

"Like I told her," he tossed his small bounty up onto the docks, "Fishing," and then he went back under, to Altair's outrage. Oh did it feel good to make Altair annoyed sometimes. He grabbed more mussels and when he surfaced they were still there.

"Get out of there," Altair said.

"Hell no I'm getting more," Desmond said.

"You're going to get hypothermia," Altair said sternly.

Desmond pushed wet hair out of his face, "I went to the north-west once, to see the temperate rain forests and Seattle, during the spring thaw, and met some people who's recriational activity was jumping into snow thaws," he grinned widely. "This wasn't recently frozen."

"It's still cold, get out."

"Come get me," Desmond taunted him and Altair glared at him even as he dove back under. He managed to get more of the shellfish off the pylons and surfaced on the other side of the pier. He was above water long enough to shove the shells onto it and not enough for Altair to grab him or yell at him and then he went under again. He kept doing that, changing where he surfaced and on which side, until he'd collected enough mussels for everyone to share and have some at the very least.

Desmond climbed up onto the dock again with a groan, he felt tired, but a good tired. He barely had time to straighten up before he felt someone grab him hard by the ear and make him yelp. He turned enough to know who it was; Altair. "What?" he whined.

"Don't, do that," Altair growled, twisting his ear hard and making Desmond whine loudly in pain and cry uncle shortly after.

"I get us food and this is the thanks I get," Desmond grumbled when Altair let him go.

"Food isn't worth your health," Altair told him, "Especially not doing a dumb thing like this and-"

"I think that's enough," Jake suddenly appeared between himself and Altair, hands on Altair's chest, pushing him back. "We know you're worried Altair but no harm done, he's fine, calm down," and only when Jake said that did Desmond notice the absolute fear in Altair's eyes. He'd been scared. Desmond didn't know Altair could do scared. Apparently so though. He'd been scared for Desmond, on his behalf. Desmond felt more of an ass now, he hadn't meant to scare anyone. He'd just been trying to be helpful.

"You're right," Altair said in a bit of a tight voice and nodded.

"Help me gather this up while he dries off. C'mon he won't freeze to death," and Jake prodded Altair away and they started to collect the mussels. Well that was... surreal honestly.

"That wasn't very smart," he looked at the sound of Lucy's voice and then found himself being swaddled in a towel. No a blanket, because it went down to his ankles. Once with it on did he realize he was freaking  _freezing_  and shivering in the cold. Lucy pulled the blanket tightly around him and over his head, giving him a little peaked hood.

"I wanted to be useful," he said, surprised by the chattering of his teeth.

"You are," she said kindly. "Lets get back to camp so you can warm up, your skin is so cold," her voice was laced with concern now.

"I honestly didn't feel it till just now," he said and patted himself down as much as he could before she handed him his shoes and socks.

"Just tell me if you lose any feeling in your phalanges or appendages," she instructed him. He didn't know what phalanges were but they didn't sound pleasant in the slightest if they got too cold.

"Yes ma'am," he said, slightly cheeky. She just rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling too. Oh good, he could get away with that still, excellent to know. Altair and Jake were gathering up Desmond's bounty and Lucy said she was going to take Desmond back to warm up. Altair just grunted, not looking up, but Jake gave an actual affirmation.

Their base was an old house, one long since abandoned and going the route of nature. Almost everything had been left as it had been and other than a few blood stains and some dust it was clean. There were beds for everyone and a kitchen and a small living space, an old tube TV, and some defunk ceiling fans Hawk was trying to see if he could hook up some way to the Cube to get it to run. Somehow he was making the gas stove run off the Cube, Hawk wasn't even sure how he was doing that and the only person who knew anything proeathan, Lucy, didn't know either. The front door had locks and opened to a side street, one clearly out of the way, and there was a back door that opened into an alleyway with places to run and hide and climb on in case something happened.

Lucy sat Desmond in front of the oven and opened the door and turned it on. A soft whine filled the air and a clear, low, white light, grew from behind it. Desmond could see the Cube hanging off the end of the propane line, shining. Lucy left him there with his clothes and as he got warmer, which was quickly as the Cube made the oven heat up faster than any gas, he shed the damp blanket. Lucy returned with a tin, a cup, and the kettle they'd found here. The kettle went on the top of the stove and she turned that on too. Gas flared and started to burn.

"Feeling warmer?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he nodded, ruffling his hair, which was still damp, it had grown out some since he'd cut it all off back in Russia. "You got my clothes?"

"Behind you," she said. He turned around and indeed there was his pile of clothes. "Also," she handed him some folded cloth and he realized it was underwear. Oh right. She turned her back to him and Desmond quickly stripped off the last of his clothing and put the new ones on. He'd just put on his pants when Lucy looked over her shoulder to see if he was done and seeing he was decent turned the rest of the way.

There was a silence that wasn't uncomfortable and Desmond had just pulled on his shirt and was reaching for his jacket, when she said, "What are those?"

"Those?" he asked, tugging his coat on, making the fabric snap.

"On your skin," she said, now staring at his hands, as it was the only part of his body that contained the marks and wasnt covered in clothing.

He lifted one up, as if to show it to her. "We don't know," he said and after a moment of hesitation she took his naked hand. "Showed up before the proeathans took me, after I got a neural implant, which didn't work and got removed. Apparently it happened before, after I woke up from my coma, and then when I fully interfaced with an Apple."

"You've done that?" she asked.

"Yeah, we all can. I don't know about Jake though," he added.

"I thought only proeathan could," he said and his fingers twitched as she ran the pads of her fingers gently along the glyphs and marks on his skin. "Didn't Morpheus know?"

"No. He said Hera might. Well, he knew what they were, not how I got them," he admitted.

"Which is?"

"A map," he said.

Lucy said nothing, turning his hand over in hers to run her fingers across his palm. They didn't speak, Lucy looking one hand over first, then the other, her own hands soft and delicate against Desmond's which were large and had knife callouses on them, as well as tiny cut marks from training. Lucy's were unblemished. Desmond felt a strange sort of peace as she examined his hands, which she did so as if handling something precious and fragile. She let go when the kettle started to sing and they dropped back to his knees suddenly feeling far too heavy. She poured a cup of water and added tea leave from the tin.

"We have any sugar?" he asked her.

"I'll check. You drink it with sugar?"

"I drink everything with sugar, cause I'm so sweet," and that made her laugh.

"I'll see," and she left him, holding the steaming cup in both hands. She came back with a fist full of sugar packets and he took seven, ripped them open, and dumped them in. "Ew," she said.

"I like it sweet," he said defensively.

"You can't taste the tea now," she said.

Desmond shrugged and stirred the tea. "So, we have mussels for dinner, excited?" he asked her.

"I would be more excited if you hadn't put yourself at risk to catch hypothermia," she said.

He rolled his eyes, "You sound like Altair."

"He was right," she said.

"Where's the fun of it if I always listen to him though?" he asked her.

"Better ways to have fun than that," she said. Desmond sipped his tea to try the temperature, sweetness and a way to change the subject. After a few moments of then standing in front of the oven Lucy said, "They're everywhere, those markings I mean."

"Yeah," Desmond said. "They on my back yet? I can't see there."

"Everywhere," she said, "Except your face."

"Good to know. I'll start looking like the Beast from that one Doctor Who episode-" and judging by Lucy's face she had no idea what he was talking about. "Never mind," he huffed.

"You said Morpheus said it was a map," Lucy said.

"Yeah."

"He couldn't read it?"

"He said not with what was complete on it, back then it was only my arms and shoulders really. He said Hera could definitely read it, or at least translate it into something he could do something with."

"So that's why you're going to Hera."

"Yeah. Find out what this is. He said she'd know, or have a better idea. She's apparently a priestess."

"They're all priests or priestesses," Lucy said.

"Huh?"

"It's... confusing," she admitted. "I don't know a lot, but I know about their AIs. They're sort of... considered embodiment of their constellation. I lived in the base of Juno and Apollo most of the time. Their mark is all over the bases."

"You mean their constellation?"

"One in the same," she agreed. "Their bases are configured in the shapes of them too. To the proeathans their stars are very serious. Their entire society revolves around it and their sixteen constellations."

"Seventeen," Desmond said.

"Excuse me?"

"There are seventeen. Morpheus said it was unlucky."

"I've... never heard of it," Lucy said, "They don't talk about it."

"Will you  _stop_ ," Desmond turned around when he heard Jake. "Honestly you should be happy, not moody," he was out of sight but it was clear he was talking to Altair.

"Wha happened?" Ezio asked.

"Desmond jumped into the water to get dinner," Jake proclaimed rather proudly.

"The freezing water," Altair added.

"He did what?" Ezio asked and then his head appeared around the corner, giving Desmond a look. "Bad," he said, pointing at Desmond like a disobedient pet.

"Shut up I got us dinner. I don't wanna hear any bitching about it when they're going to be delicious!" he said harshly back.

"Oh look, mussels," Hawk suddenly announced. "... I hate mussels."

Desmond groaned loudly, he heard Jake fort of laughing. He gave Lucy a baleful look, "I just can't win can I?" he asked her, she was fighting what looked like a smile. She just shook her head. He sighed again, "Of course I can't."


	31. A Little Birdie Told Me

The gentle thud of boots on the ground was the only warning Desmond got before Jake was sitting across from him. He hadn't seen much of the other man in a while honestly despite that there was only their party of six for at least five hundred miles. They'd both been working on the fishing boat after it'd been found, to get it running, and getting all their gear together for the voyage to Spain. That had taken most of their time and Desmond had often been down in the engine room with Hawk while the man tried to get the Cube hooked up to the big engines, to see if he could. It had taken him four days to jerry rig a contraption that allowed the Cube to power a battery that acted as a transformer between the Cube and the engines so the thing didn't blow them up. Desmond had been his helper, since he could handle the Cube safely. Now they were underway, the second day at sea.

"Hey yourself. Seems like forever and a half sine I saw you," Jake grinned at him. Desmond shrugged. "How you doing?"

"Fine," Desmond said.

Jake reached over and grabbed his wrist, "Really?" he asked, "No need to sleep outside, hoping you don't wake up?"

Desmond stared down at the table, "I'm fine," he said again. He could feel Jake watching him.

"You can tell me Des," Jake said gently.

He looked up from under his brows, "I'm not suicidal okay. It was a momentary lapse of weakness," and he tugged his hand from Jake's grip. And only ever momentary. He couldn't afford to be weak, or at least let it show. He had to be strong, he had to be capable. Anything less and all the cracks would show, everyone would see just how easily he could break. Hawk's advice repeated in his head every day when he woke up, some days it would be easier than others, to pretend he was okay, some days it would be a struggle, some days he'd even be able to convince  _himself_  he wasn't broken. He hadn't had a rough morning in weeks, not since Gafsa, he was thankful for that.

"That's good," Jake said and Desmond felt a bubble of irritation rise up in his chest, "I don't like seeing my friends want to kill themselves," the bubble burst into nothing. Damnit. Why did Jake have to be so good? His ancestors, Desmond didn't even try to deny, were monsters, they were the bad stories people told their kids about. The big bad wolf. The boogy man. They made the things in the shadows piss themselves. They were gods among men if gods existed, eternal and righteous and sharp. His ancestors were the villains of the story. How did a guy like Jacob ever get mixed up with them? He was too good for all them.

"Thanks," Desmond said softly, "I'm okay. I've been better."

"I'm glad," Jake nodded, "cause you scared the  _shit_  out of me in Russia that night."

"One time thing. I'm not suicidal."

"Okay," Jake bobbed his head. "You know if you need to talk to someone- 

"I know," Desmond didn't want to hear it. He knew he couldn't. If he ever told Jake it'd eventually slip out, or maybe he'd think he was doing Desmond right, and Altair would eventually hear about it. Of all of them Altair couldn't know about that night. He'd really never let Desmond out of his sight. The old man had freaked out enough that time Desmond had just got fishing for oysters. Imagine what he'd be like if he thought Desmond wanted to off himself? It was something he didn't want to even think about.

They both looked over when someone else came into the galley. It was Lucy, hair pulled back in the bun that was still so familiar. "This where you wandered off to," she said.

"Anything fun going on on deck?" Jake asked. 

"Ezio and Hawk are having a one-up contest."

"Oh bother," Jake sighed and Desmond groaned appropriately. "What're they doing?"

"When I left they were going through black belt degrees for some sort of martial arts, seeing who would mess up first." Desmond snorted at that one. She just shook her head and went over to one of the cupboards.

"You think Hera will really have answers?" Jake pulled Desmond's attention back to him.

"I can only hope," Desmond sighed. "I feel like we're being ping ponged across the world by them. I don't think they know what it is," he looked down at his hands. He wasn't wearing his gloves and the glyphs were obvious.

"They have to though."

"I hope," Desmond looked over Jake's shoulder as Lucy opened a few more cabinets, looking for something. "And if Hera doesn't know she'll probably send us to someone she thinks might."

"Who do you think that'd be if the high priestess doesn't know?" Jake asked. Desmond didn't answer. Lucy was trying to reach something out of her reach at the top of the cabinet. She was standing on his tip toes, stretched out to reach for it and her sweater was riding up. It was  _really_ distracting. "Des," he forced himself to look away.

"Yeah?"

Jake frowned at him and then turned over his shoulder. Lucy still couldn't get whatever she was reaching for. "Need some help?" he asked her.

"I got it," she said, voice slightly strained

"You sure?" Desmond asked, and her answer was to give a little hop to grab a box that was against the edge of the shelf.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she gave them both a brief smile, box in hand and tugged at her sweater to make it sit right on her body. Desmond watched her go to the fridge and pull out some of the little milk they had made from a bag of evaporated milk they'd found.

"All that work for some cereal?" Jake teased her.

"At this point I'm still just happy to be eating human cuisine-

"I would hardly call cereal 'cuisine'," Jake teased her.

She looked at him, the pitcher of milk in hand, "If you want some Jake you can just ask instead of being standoffish about it," she said.

"I'm fine," he waved her off.

She finished pouring her bowl of cereal, grabbed a spoon, and headed out, "You should come watch the show, it's amusing," she said as she left.

"Maybe later," Jake said, grabbing Desmond's wrist again when Desmond made to go after her.

"Knowing them they'll be at it a while, so probably no rush," and she laughed a little as she left.

Once she was gone Desmond could actually focus on Jake who was giving him the strangest look. "What?" he asked.

"Could you possibly be any  _more_  obvious?"

"W-what?" he asked.

"Oh c'mon Des, I'm not blind here. You want her."

"You're ridiculous. She's my friend. She's also literally one of two girls I've seen in almost seven years," he pouted at Jake. Not like it wasn't true. Ever since Abstergo his company had been almost exclusively men, except for Lucy and Rebecca. After he left the Assassins it had been nothing but a sausage fest, a point he was reminded of often when his three alpha dog dick head ancestors were well... alpha dog dick heads.

"Yeah, okay," clearly Jake didn't believe him. Fuck him though. He didn't know anything. "How do you know her?"

"You don' know? They didn't tell you?"

"I prefer to ignore Hawk's existence, Ezio mostly ignores me when I talk, and Altair refuses to talk about it."

"Merry band we got here," Desmond said dryly.

"I know she was in your cell, or something, and she died, and is a clone, that's about it."

Desmond puffed up his cheeks a moment, "It's kinda a long story," he said.

"We got nothing better to do," Jake leaned back.

Desmond sighed and rubbed his head, his hair was an inch and a half long now, since he'd shaved it the last time when they left Russia. "You know I was taken by Abstergo?"

"Course."

"She was there, with her boss. She and Vidic kept me in the Animus, reliving Altair's memories. She was nice to me, didn't let Vidic kill me or keep me in the Animus too long. I was there a week and she helped me get out," Desmond went over the basics of what had happened after that. Shaun, Rebecca, his brief stay in Rome, and then when they moved to the old villa. It took less time then he thought and Jake sat and listened. Then he got to Rome and it was difficult to continue. "-after I basically did a platforming puzzle, don't look at me like that, it was totally a platforming puzzle! But after I did we could get to the pedestal where Ezio left the Apple. I picked it up cause hey that's what's supposed to happen right?"

"Yeah and?" Jake asked when Desmond didn't continue for several moments.

"it's really... jumbled here. I can't remember everything... Your brain naturally tries to shield itself from traumatic events, mine did that. So it's just-

"Desmond," Jake took his hand, "I don't need the details if it's hard."

Desmond slipped his hand from Jake's grip, "Juno made me stab her," Desmond's voice was very far away. "I remember I tried to fight it. Then I fell into a coma. Too much trauma, from the Animus, stress from my life, and then... what I did," he felt nauseous thinking about it. "I killed her. An A.I construct of Clay inside the Animus told me about her death. I woke up when we were in America. She was buried in Italy."

"I'm sorry," Jake said. They were quiet for a good few minutes. "That  _sucks_ ," Jake suddenly announced, "kill the girl who basically saves your ass on a regular basis, then find out she has a clone. You liked her though, didn't you?"

"It doesn't matter if I did," Desmond slumped in the chair, arms across his chest, "I killed her. I won't hurt her like that again."

"Even though you want her-

"Jake," Desmond growled, "shut up ."

"Hey I'm just the third party here," Jake said defensively. "Why does Altair hate her though?"

"She was a mole for the Assassins, my father sent her in to be a spy. When she would have left Abstergo decided she knew too much, and ordered her taken care of, didn't matter what she was. Vidic intervened, and she lived, becoming a prisoner of war inside the Abstergo tower in Rome. At some point she turned to the Templars. He sees her as a traitor."

Jake was silent for a moment, "That's so much horse shit!" he cried.

"Also proeathan made clone."

"That's still so much horse shit," Jake complained. "Like I've been talking to her. She's a good girl. Smart as hell and makes my head hurt sometimes, but she's nice, and funny. She's like a dream-- which I clearly don't have to tell you."

"Fuck off Jake," Desmond growled at Jake's smug face.

"That's the dumbest reason to hate someone. Did she betray you?"

"... No," he admitted.

"He's so full of hot air," Jake waved his hand, "also I think he likes to pretend his first fuck was a Templar."

"...Wait, what?"

"Oh woops, that slipped out," Jake covered his mouth quickly.

"Ooooh no no no, what did you just said?" Desmond leaned over the table and grabbed Jake's arm, grinning like a diabolical fiend. 

"Don't tell him I told you, he'd be so pissed."

"Tellll me," Desmond was just glad that the subject was  _off_  him and Lucy right now.

Jake cleared his throat, " _Well_ ," he said in Arabic, the accent old and thick and familiar. Desmond didn't flinch. " _Assassins didn't usually have kids back then, or even really have sex. We had other matters to attend to. And... well_ ," Jake snorted in amusement,  _"Maria took his virginity. He didn't take hers_." Desmond was pretty sure he'd never laughed harder in his  _life_ than that moment.

"That is literally the best thing I've ever heard," Desmond said.

" _Many of us liked to boast about bedding ladies. None of us did_ ," Jake said, grinning, " _At least not until we were older_."

"Holy shit if I wasn't sitting down I'd need to after that," Desmond tried to catch his breath. "That was when he was like twenty-six or something right?"

"Mhm," Jake nodded.

"Good god," and Desmond pressed his hand to his face, the remains of his laughter as chuckles. "What a dork."

  
_"His voice also cracked more than anyone I'd ever heard when he went through puberty_ ," Jake added.

"I take that back,  _that_  was the best thing I've ever heard," Desmond said. "Got any other good gossip old man?" he asked. Jake grinned. "You better fucking tell me right now," he said tapping the table pointedly. Jake chuckled but didn't say he wouldn't either.


	32. Sea Eagle

They were drifting. Something had happened between the Cube and the engines to make them overheat and stop working. Hawk was fiddling with the transformer. Desmond was on deck with the tarp covered ATVs for his only company. This had been an old fishing vessel so Desmond had found some fishing lines, hooks used a portion of their supplies that was starting to go bad, and was trying to fish.

So far he wasn't having any luck. At the least it was quiet out and the sky bright and blue and clear. It was nearly warm, a sign that winter didn't have a choke hold in this part of the world. He'd been out here a while and felt relaxed. Normally he found fishing boring and painful. Now he found it relaxing and nice. He could enjoy this. It helped him not think and just be able to deal with the fact that he was alive and not have to worry about the world or how  _fucked_  it was.

The others had left him alone so it was just him for a few hours. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a few hours alone. He didn't count Gafsa, that had been a train wreck. But to just... be alone, with no one wanting to talk to him or bother him or him knowing they were there. He was just... alone. It was sort of amazing. He wished this happened more often. When the others were around he thought, when they weren't his brain just went 'I can't stress about this any more right now' and that was that and was silent. He could stand for some more real silence in his life.

He was so relaxed even that he napped. It had been a long time since he'd napped. Been at ease enough to nap. The rocking of the boat and the sea before him were pleasant though and rocked him to sleep. He woke at feeling something tugging at his line.

He grabbed the line in his gloved hands and pulled back. The line lurched. Oh man this might  _suck_. He started to wind the fishing line around a cleat on the boat, since he wasn't using a rod and it wasn't easy to hold onto line with a fish on it. Desmond knew how to fish. He remembered Andrew taking him down to the lake near the Farm once and showing him, then he'd done it a few more times with friends once he'd left. Desmond pulled the fish in slowly.

"Oh hell yeah!" he cried when he saw it splash at the surface. He didn't pull too hard and before he quite knew it he had a pretty big fish flopping around on the deck. He pounced on it and made quick work of shoving his hidden blade through it's head. He grabbed it under the gills, yanked out the hook and held it up. He had  _no_  idea what the hell it was but it was pretty big and looked like it'd taste yummy. Oh man he wanted to show the others. He'd just done something COOL.

Desmond marched himself and his fish to the cabin door and pushed it open. "Hey guys!" he called.

"And lady," he heard Lucy call from the bunks.

"You know what I mean. Look! I caught something," and he stepped into the main room, which was also the galley. Hawk, Ezio and Jake were all there. He held up his fish.

"Ho shit! You did!" Jake cried.

"I dunno what it is though," Desmond admitted. "Hawk?"

"It looks like a wrasse," he said.

"Yeah, whatever," Jake said, "Can we eat it?"

Hawk looked at Ezio, "I think," Ezio said. "I mean I can cut it up and see what we get. Might not feed everyone but it's a pretty big fish."

"Fish?" Desmond's head turned as Lucy stepped into the galley, now making the room rather cramped. "Wow, a fish," she smiled brilliantly.

"Ezzzzzio," Jake was suddenly clinging to Ezio's arm looking pitiful, "make us a yummy dinner with the fish."

"Ahhh, someone get it off me!" Ezio cried and playfully tried to push Jake off him. Hawk laughed.

"C'mon Crow, leave the Little Eagle alone," Hawk chuckled.

"I want yummy food," Jake whined.

"Jake for fuck's sake I can't cook anything with your hanging on!" Ezio cried, though clearly wasn't mad. "Desmond, smack him with the fish," he ordered.

Desmond laughed, "No way. I wouldn't contaminate the fish with Jake cooties," he said.

"Aaaahg, ALTAIR!" he yelled, "get your fucking boyfriend off me!"

"Not my boyfriend, not my problem," Altair yelled back from the wheel house upstairs.

"Oh my god, you two," Lucy said in amused exasperation. "C'mon Jake," and she pried him off Ezio.

"Noooo," Jake fake sobbed.

"AHG! Children! Go do something productive, like beat each other up. Actually, that's a great idea. Lucy, be a love and take dumb and dumber to go try and either kill each other or throw each other over board."

Lucy laughed, "I think I can do that."

"Desmond, you have my express permission to kill Jake if he gets too out of hand."

Desmond snorted, "Sure thing," and he handed the fish over to Ezio.

"C'mon boys," Lucy grabbed Jake by the arm and started to pull him out of the galley. She grabbed Desmond's hand as she walked past and Desmond allowed himself to be pulled back onto deck.

"All I wanted was yummy fish, why does Ezio hate me Lucy?" Jake asked her pitifully.

"Cause you're fucking weird Jake!" Desmond laughed.

"But fish-

"Jake shut up about the fish. Ezio's going to make fish," and Lucy released them. "Now, maybe we should do as Ezio suggested."

"Which is? No Des you can't kill me, sorry,  _or_  throw me overboard," he added when Desmond opened his mouth to suggest just that.

"When was the last time either of you sparred?" she asked them.

"Uh..."

"As I thought," she said.

"To be fair we've basically been running none stop from Jerusalem to Spain this entire time," Desmond said.

"I know, all the more reason to practice," she said, "and I wouldn't mind fighting against some humans again," she added.

"You've fought proeathans?"

"Mainly. There aren't many humans in Juno or Apollo, mainly just me and your clone. He wasn't allowed to fight me."

"Why?" Jake asked.

"He would have tried to kill me."

"Man, what is it with my clone and wanting to kill us?" Desmond asked her.

"He's very angry," she said with a frown, "volatile too. I wasn't allowed near him most of the time because of it."

"Huh... that's weird."

"Shall we?" she asked them.

"How you wanna do it lil lady?"

"Could you maybe say that in a way so it really sounds like you're asking us both if we're down to f-

"Get your head out of the gutter Des, god damn."

Lucy just laughed, "How about we both attack Desmond?" she asked Jake.

"Hey, what-?"

"That sounds like a  _great_  idea," Jake smirked at Desmond.

"Hey I didn't agree to this!" Desmond cried.

"We should stretch first," Lucy added. "Don't want to hurt glass-Desmond," she gave his cheek a pinch.

"Hey!" he cried.

"Man Lucy if I wasn't more gay than straight I'd propose to you right here," and she laughed at Jake's comment as he bent over to stretch.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said with a smile and Desmond pouted as they stretched. He decided to just not fight it and joined them. It only took them a few minutes to get all limbered up. "So us on Desmond?" she asked Jake.

"Sounds good to me," Jake said.

"You guys are assholes," Desmond said and took a defensive stance.

"Sure we are buddy," Jake smirked.

"Want us to go easy on you?" Lucy asked.

"Assholes and I hate you," Desmond scowled his best scowl at them. Jake and Lucy just grinned and Desmond found himself having to defend against two highly skilled martial artists at once. This fucking sucked ass! He could keep up though and was in fact faster than them. Or that's what it felt like at least. He knew he was keeping up though so that was something. But Desmond hadn't fought in a long time and he felt himself growing tired a lot faster than he thought he would. Soon things were getting through and while Lucy and Jake pulled their punches it still irritated him to see gaps in his defenses.

He knew he had to take one of them down in order to keep having a fighting chance. So he tackled Jake and in about three seconds had him in a hold. Jake gasped and grabbed at him but Desmond held him fast. Then another pair of hands was helping Jake pry Desmond's hands off. "Hey! Cheating!" Desmond cried as Lucy helped Jake.

"He's on my team, it isn't cheating," she pointed out. Desmond just scowled and held on. Then all at once he let go and Lucy, not ready for the release and fell back, taking a spill onto Jake's legs. Jake was also now free and Desmond wasn't quite sure who's arms were where all the sudden and Desmond found himself at the bottom of a dog pile, Jake on top of him and Lucy on top of Jake.

"Uuuuuuhg," Desmond groaned.

"Hi," Lucy smiled at him, her face was almost directly in front of him.

"You both are  _heavy_  get off me," Desmond complained.

"You calling me fat!?" Jake cried.

"Yes. You're a fat fuck Jake, get off me I can't feel me riiibs," Desmond whined.

"I dunno, I think it's pretty comfy. What do you think Lucy?" Jake asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder at her.

"Very comfy," she agreed.

"Uhg," Desmond groaned, "I thought we were practicing!?"

"Taking a break. You like breaks, don't you Des?" Jake asked. He and Lucy just laughed when Desmond just groaned again loudly and decided to just not fight it. They did eventually get off him and they fought some more until Ezio called them in for dinner, the immortal clucking over any bruises they might have had. Desmond was just glad to have hot, fresh, food in his stomach.


	33. Falling Feathers

It was raining in Córdoba when they arrived. The fishing vessel had fit three of the ATVs, but not the forth so everyone was doubled up and miserable and wet. At least they had rain coats and with their goggles it kept them mostly dry, but there was no helping that Desmond's legs were  _freezing_  from the wind and cold rain in just lined jeans. His back was warm and dry though, Lucy pressed up against his back, her face in his shoulder to keep it out of the rain. He was glad their bags were water proof.

The city was deserted as they drove through it, the rain and their ATVs the only sound there was. Ezio was leading and in the rain Desmond could just barely make his and Hawk's tail lights. Altair and Jake were riding behind him and Desmond just wanted to get out of this fucking rain. The rain made it impossible to really see anything and only because the tail lights were red and light could he even see them at all. Wherever Hawk was leading Ezio, to the coordinates Hera was supposed to be, he hoped they got there soon. He wanted to dry off and get off this damn ATV. Also get away from Lucy, like he hadn't been able to for the past few hours as they drove through southern Spain on long abandoned roads, husks of cars littering the side of the road from five years ago. It wasn't like he didn't like it. It was just... he couldn't do it.

A massive building loomed out the rain before them. Desmond's mouth opened a bit at how massive the structure was and he tasted icy rain. They drove right for it and then they next to it. Ezio took a sharp turn and all at once they were out of the rain and under a covered walk way. The rain was loud and Desmond suddenly felt cold and felt drove came to a stop inside. The walkway was only about ten feet wide ad Desmond maneuvered his ATV to give Altair's some room.

"Where are we?" Altair asked, coming up beside them.

"Who caaaares," Jake moaned from behind him, "it's not raining in here."

"The Great Mosque of Córdoba," Hawk said. "Or cathedral, depending on your religion. Very famous building."

"I did a report on this place in college," Jake said, pushing his goggles up and ran both hands through his hair to get it out of his face.

"Anything interesting?" Altair asked.

"Not that I know of. I failed that class," Jake shrugged and everyone had a various expression of 'why am I not surprised', Lucy just giggled. "Know it was built before bone head here was born though," he gave Altair a few, light, love smacks on his buzzed head. "So for once you aren't the oldest thing here ya fossil."

"Jake, you're so hilarious. Please do shut up," Altair groaned.

"What? I'm just  _saying_  is all. No need to get our panties in a twist," Jake huffed.

"According to the coordinates Morpheus gave us this is the resting place of Hera's temple," Hawk intervened before before they could continue to go at it.

"Man, do these guys just  _all_  have to be under important holy buildings?" Jake asked.

"I think more, why did we build our important monuments over their temples," Lucy said and stood up on the ATV before getting off. "They were here first. All of the temples under important buildings. The Dome of the Rock, the Vatican, the Colosseum, the Great Mosque of Córdoba and I'm sure others. Why is that?" she asked them.

"Doesn't matter," Altair said gruffly. "If this is where we need to be then here we are. Lets get it together and find this place," Jake got off their ATV. Desmond turned his own off. The ATVs shut off one after another, dousing them in a wet, rain soaked, light. The rain seemed louder without the ATVs. "You got more specific location for us Hawk?" Altair asked him.

"It's in the prayer hall," he said, his computer out as Ezio got off the ATV, Hawk didn't move. "Morpheus gave us coordinates down to the foot. I can find the entrance, and of course, we got our key," he looked at Desmond. "Lets set up a base of operations, get out of these wet clothes and then find it," he turned off his computer with a swipe of his hand.

"Sounds like a plan," Ezio said, "shall we just leave the ATVs here?" since they were rather close to the prayer hall itself.

"Yeah, they won't be going anywhere," Hawk said and finally got off the ATV. They wheeled the three four-wheelers to a spot protected from the rain and took their gear off the back of the ATVs before entering the prayer hall.

There were remains here. People had lived here at some point, sleeping bags and blankets were scattered around inside the prayer hall, boxes chewed through by mice and old, cardboard, food boxes destroyed to get at whatever had been inside. There were a few old blood stains on the ground from old battles, ones lost by the humans. Desmond felt a put open in his stomach. Everyone here had been taken or killed by proeathans. He tried not to think about it. Doing so hurt too much.

"Well, lets set up," Ezio said, somber toned. The bags were put down between two exits.

Lucy grabbed one of her bags, "I'm going to get some privacy," she said and none of them stopped her as she left.

There was something that could be said about Desmond's ancestors. They didn't have an ounce of shame. Once Lucy was gone behind some pillars they grabbed clothes from bags and stripped. "Jesus christ," Desmond said.

"What?" Ezio asked.

"Could you three be possibly more weird?" Desmond asked.

"Grow up," Hawk sighed, "unless you need help changing?"

"Nope," Desmond turned away from his naked ancestors and grabbed up some clothes. He was relativity dry, just a bit damp, except for his pants which were  _soaked_. Desmond stripped, wiped his legs down of wet and then dressed quickly again because it was actually pretty cold out. Once he had his pants and at least his under armor on he felt better, warmer mostly, though still with some chill in his bones. He rolled up his sleeves and looked at his skin and the geometry on his arms. They glowed brightly, like when he'd visited Morpheus. It was so unreal, that he had these fucking...  _glowing marks_  on his skin. They covered everywhere now and if Desmond stopped and paid attention he could feel a gentle rolling sensation like he was still on their boat. It had nothing to do with sea legs though. It was like back in Jerusalem.

"How you doing?" Hawk asked, suddenly next to him.

Desmond looked down at him, right in the eye, "Better," he said.

Hawk smiled, "Good to hear," he said. "How are these?" he asked about the light marks seemingly etched into Desmond's skin.

"Same as always. They don't hurt, but... I dunno," he shrugged.

"They're on your back," Hawk said.

Desmond sighed, he'd been afraid of that. "they're everywhere then, except my face, right?"

"Hmmm," Hawk moved his head around to see it from multiple angles, "None," he reported.

"Good."

"I'm hungry," Jake announced, "Can we eat before looking for crazy technology priestess thing?"

"Yes," Desmond said before someone else could disagree, "I'm hungry too," he added.

"While we're in Córdoba we're going to have to restock up on supplies, for wherever we're going next," Ezio said as Jake and Desmond pulled out food. "Who's up for supply runs?"

"When it isn't raining," Desmond said pulling out some crusty bread that they'd baked before leaving the ship as well as some wild berries they'd found during a pit stop on the side of the road. He and Jake split the bread and berries. "But honestly," he said around his food, "I could go for a hunting expedition. I want meat."

"Woah agreed!" Jake cried. "Meat meat, I want meat!" Altair grumbled something under his breath at that, "What was that Altair?"

"Nothin'," he said.

Jake narrowed his eyes at Altair, but Ezio was speaking so whatever. "We'll do supply runs and once we get out of the city, out of the urban areas, we'll do some hunting. Sound good?"

"Oh yeah," Desmond nodded.

"Little Bird, do me a favor," Hawk crouched next to him. Desmond 'hmmed?' in response, "Touch this," he held out his computer. Desmond reached out, after shoving the last of the bread into his mouth, and pressed his hand to the glass screen. The glass lit up, "Huh," he said. Desmond drew a smiley face on the glass with his finger, the light trail brilliant for a moment but fading quickly. "It hasn't done this since Jerusalem has it?" Desmond shook his head, his mouth full of berries. "Hmmm."

"Might as well chalk it up to yet another explicable unexplainable thing about the boy wonder," Jake said, mouth full of food.

"Maybe Hera can give us some answers," Hawk frowned.

"I'm holding my breath," Desmond said, taking his hand back to find something else to eat. All he found was the box of evaporated milk in the rations bag he carried. "We really need supplies," Desmond said, "there's pretty much nothing left."

"Here," Altair tried to hand him some from his pack.

Desmond pushed it away, "Don't want it."

"You're not hungry anymore?" Altair asked, slightly confused.

"You eat it," he wasn't going to fucking eat anyone else's food. Of the group only he and Lucy could really starve and if it came to he knew everyone else would rather go hungry before letting him. It irritated him. He wasn't any better or any worse than them. If he was hungry then they probably were too. They all carried their rations on their ATVs, for easy distribution, and he wasn't going to eat anything that didn't come off his ATV. Him being mortal wasn't an excuse to eat all their food.

Altair frowned at him, but did take it back, he didn't eat though, but put it back, probably wasn't hungry. "All right," Altair looked around the prayer hall. "Well we aren't going to get anything done standing here. Lets go find the front door. Hawk?" he looked at the short man.

"Give me a sec," Hawk said, he'd been fiddling with one of the gadgets Lucy had brought them. He put it away and pulled out his computer, turning it on and bringing up the program he needed. "It's in here, down there," he pointed to the other side of the long prayer hall.

"Right, lets go," Altair said.

"What about Lucy?" Desmond asked.

"What about her?"

Desmond scowled at Altair. He was such an asshole about her it wasn't even fair. "She's not back yet," he said, no need to start a fight, even though Altair's attitude towards her was  _really_  grinding his gears.

"And?"

"Uhg, I'll go find her," and before Altair could tell him not to he got up and headed in the direction Lucy had gone. Small things like this made Desmond feel a bit more in control of his own life, though he realized he and the others still asked how high when Altair told them to jump and how long when he told them to run. He didn't hate it. But it was just... annoying sometimes. Especially with Lucy. He treated her like she was less than human, and all it did was make Desmond feel sick to his stomach. No one deserved that sort of treatment.

"Lucy?" he called, not knowing just where she went, as there were plenty of pillars to vanish behind and more than a few alcoves, or even leave the main prayer hall, though he doubted she'd done that.

"What?" she called back, sounding close. He headed towards her voice, which sounded like it was behind this pillar and-

"Oh-" and Desmond felt himself flush and he covered his eyes quickly. "Sorry! Sorry!" he cried. He'd caught her in the middle of changing. Even though his eyes were covered he could still see her in his mind's eye, wearing a sports bra, men's underwear and putting on her pants. "I thought you were done," he apologized again, hand still in place over his eyes. He wanted to peak, good  _god_  did he want to peak, but he didn't, he wouldn't.

"Well, I a now," Lucy said, sounding flustered.

"We're uh... leaving, for the entrance," Desmond didn't remove his hand still.

"Okay, I'll be right there," she said.

Desmond didn't say anything for a moment before he forced out a "Right," turned around and walked mechanically back over to the others.

"She coming?" Altair asked in a growl.

"Yeah, she said she'd be right there," Desmond said and really hoped the color on his face had gone down. Jake wasn't giving him any funny, dumb ass, looks, so he assumed it had.

Not a few moments later Lucy showed up, fully dressed, her hair still a bit damp and in a pony tail. "Glad you could join us," Altair basically growled.

Lucy wasn't even intimidated and dropped her bag with the rest of their gear, "Glad to know the rain did nothing to tarnish your  _stunning_  personality," Lucy smiled a bit smugly at him. Then before Altair could retort she said, "So are we going or not? Now you're the one holding us up," and god damn Lucy was great if for no other reason than she didn't take Altair's shit. He traded looks with Jake ad Jake looked beside himself in delight that someone other than him gave Altair an actual hard time. Desmond was pretty sure Jake was in love with Lucy. But in a 'I want to be your best friend and watch chick flicks in our pajamas with you' sort of way. He was sure Altair thought that too which just pissed him off more that he was on the losing side of who trusted Lucy and who didn't.

So Altair just scowled, "Hawk," he said sternly and Hawk hopped up to show them the way before Altair bit everyone's head off.


	34. Tomia

The entrance to Hera's temple wasn't obvious. "So according to Morpheus it's supposed to be here," Hawk said. It wasn't in the prayer hall itself but just outside it though still under an overhang to keep them out of the rain.

"Yeah but where?" Ezio asked.

"Don't look at me," Hawk said looking at Desmond.

"Uh... right," and Desmond tried looking. "Hmm," he went into the second sight and then tried to remember what he'd done last time to see  _beyond_  that. It wasn't easy and he couldn't really do it again. As it was his eyesight was already really good but unlike before the shadows didn't melt away and the Eagle Vision was nothing but lights and shadows.

"Well?" Hawk asked.

"I don't see anything helpful," he confessed.

"Are you serious?" Ezio asked.

"No Ezio I'm totally lying and am going to magic us into the temple, yes of  _course_ I'm serious," he rolled his eyes at his ancestor. "I think we need to go down," he looked at the floor, "cause whatever door there is, it isn't here."

"Well how do we go down?" Jake asked.

"Not a clue," Desmond frowned. "Last time I did something to see the entrance. This time I can't, it's weird but I can't."

"Great, are there old catacombs under this mosque too?" Jake asked sarcastically.

"We might not need them," Lucy said.

"Yeah?" Desmond asked.

"How you figure that Stillman?" Altair asked meanly.

Lucy ignored his attitude, "Hera has to know Desmond is coming because Morpheus told her. That means she's listening."

"Okay, so what?"

"Well, maybe he has to call her?"

"You lost me," Desmond said.

"All these temples are important bases for the proeathans, meaning that they're full of proeathan tech to sense humans. If this is an actual temple I'm sure it has... things temples need."

"Like what for example?" Hawk prodded.

"Proeathans use a sacrificial based religion similar to the Aztec and Mayan religions. They basically spill blood until something happens. Their sacrifice of choice-

"Lemmie guess," Jake cut in, "us?"

"Yes," she said. "Actual proeathan temples are activated by blood and are very sensitive machines that watch the stars."

"Morpheus said his base was an observatory," Desmond frowned.

"It's different. Think of it like astrology verses astronomy. They watch the stars for different reasons. This is just what I've heard from some of their... uh-

"Their what?" Altair challenged.

"Sorry, I'm trying to come up with a good translation," she frowned thoughtfully. "Faceless I suppose, their holy men. I heard some Faceless discussing how they were going to get temples back, and how many humans it would take to basically resurrect a temple. Apparently they unearthed one in Iran and it took," she stopped, the words caught in the back of her throat.

"Lucy?" Desmond asked.

"They were upset because it took," she stopped again and put her hand over his mouth looking horrified. "Lets just say, a  _lot_  of blood," she said.

"Like we talking people worth amount of blood?" Ezio asked.

"Yes," she said. "The less proeathan DNA someone has the more blood it takes to reactive dead technology. It was a few hundred people," the last sentence was nearly in a whisper and she looked amazingly pale. "One proeathan could have given a small amount of blood and it would have been fine."

"But proeathans don't work like that?" Altair growled.

"No," she shook her head. "All their technology is being brought back using humans. To help thin the herd probably. After so many millennial without them to intermingle with our species most people have nearly no proeathan DNA left." She swallowed, "Temples react to blood, certain blood," and she looked at Desmond.

"Think again Stillman," Altair snapped.

"It wouldn't have to be a lot," Lucy said. "Hera's waiting for anything to know we're here if he just-

"No one is making Desmond bleed, end of discussion," Altair glared at her.

"But Altair-

"No buts kid," Altair turned to him, "Don't even think about it, we'll find some other way."

Desmond frowned, "So I get no say in this at all?"

"We don't know how much it'll take, or even if it'll work," Altair frowned. "No one is getting hurt today."

"Then what are we going to do?" Jake asked.

"All these old cities are built on top of older cities. There are always ways down. We're going to find one and go down it and find our entrance. That's what," Altair said.

"Okay," Jake said. "So how about we split into pairs and go find our way down?"

"Great idea Jake," Desmond said before Altair could say anything, "You and Altair go together and since I don't want to leave Lucy alone with Hawk for any extended amount of time he can go with Ezio," not that he was afraid Hawk would do anything to her. More like he'd fanboy over proeathan stuff and just make her talk about her time in Juno. He'd done that enough on the boat and he could tell Lucy was uncomfortable talking about it.

He saw Altair a second from complaining but thankfully Jake was on his side. "He's right. Now c'mon you," and he grabbed Altair's arm and started to drag him away. A few seconds later they stopped in the prayer hall and started to argue in Arabic.

"Lets take the long way around," Ezio said to Hawk who nodded and they left.

"C'mon," Desmond said to Lucy, since the argument between Jake and Altair had turned nearly into a yelling match in something that wasn't English or Arabic.

"They okay?" Lucy asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Yeah, they're fine. It's their way of showing they care," Desmond said with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh," there was a moment of silence as they walked past a collection of blankets. "Just so I'm sure, are they-

"Together?" Desmond rose a brow at her.

"Yeah?"

"No."

"Okay, that's what I thought. They're hard to read sometimes. I mean the last time I saw eye fucking that intense it was on Supernatural."

"You watched that dumb show?" Desmond asked with a slight grin.

"Shut up," she sort of whined, "it was a total fantasy and the actors were hot," Desmond just laughed. "What? You didn't have a guilty pleasure show?" she challenged him.

"No, I did," he agreed.

"What was it?"

"Why you wanna know?"

"Cause when will we ever get to talk about television shows we'll never get to see again?" she asked him. "They're all gone now."

"My guilty pleasure was Project Runway and Adventure Time," he said. "Still better than Supernatural," he added. She shoved him playfully. The argument had stopped at least as Desmond basically led them in a loop around the prayer hall.

"You're awful," she told him. He just shrugged. "Weren't we supposed to be going somewhere?" she asked as they ended up back where they started. The others were gone now.

"We are. You said Hera is listening," he said as he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm exposing light marks and his tattoo.

"I did, all her sensors are probably on."

"Then lets give her something to hear," and he snapped his hidden blade out on his right hand. "How much?" he asked her.

"W-what?" she stammered, looking at him wide eyed.

"How much blood?" he asked her seriously.

"Desmond, you can't be serious," she said. "You heard what Altair said-

"I did," he said, "and I am tired of him making decisions for me. How much?"

She was quiet for a moment, "It shouldn't take much," she said. "Full proeathans can get away with about an eight of a cup of blood. I don't know about you. I mean, you're human."

"I'm also me," he said seriously.

"You are," she agreed slowly.

"Then we'll find out," he smiled a bit manically at her. She looked like she wanted to stop him, but didn't as he pressed the edge of the blade to his underarm. The pain was numb, like white noise in his head and felt strangely good. He didn't cut too deeply though before pulling the hidden blade away and holding his arm out so the blood could drip off his arm and onto the dirty floor. They stood in silence, watching, only the rain for a space between them, as Desmond's blood seemed to be sucked into the tile of the floor. As the flow started to ease Desmond opened the wound again.

"Desmond," she said.

"Yeah," he looked at her from his arm.

"I'm going to get some bandages. I don't want you to lose too much blood. Altair would be so angry."

"If he gets mad at you for something I did I will kick his fucking ass," he said seriously.

She smiled just a bit, "Still. Bandages," he nodded and she left quickly. Desmond looked back at his arm and then down at the little puddle of blood in front of him. He switched into eagle vision and smiled. He could see lines like he had back at Morpheus' observatory here now. They were red in his sight and formed a huge, multi armed, star around him.

Lucy still wasn't back when suddenly the star vanished and Desmond blinked when he heard the sound of moving stone. He stepped to the side as suddenly the tile cracked and splintered and he had to take several steps back as a pillar rose from the ground. It was made of the black material the proeathans loved so much and riddled with red lines Desmond could see even without eagle vision. "Desmond," Lucy announced when she came up to him, holding a bottle of water and the bandages.

"Found our entrance," Desmond said, pleased with himself and smiled at her before looking at the pillar.


	35. Bloodied Claws

Like Desmond had guessed, and known, Altair had been pissed when he found out Desmond had cut himself. Desmond had just stood up to him about it. It was  _his_  dissension and not Altair's what happened to his body. He didn't need another dad telling him what he could or couldn't do. Being put in the same league as Andrew drew Altair up short since everyone knew how much Altair hated Andrew. After that it had been a simple task of opening the pillar with a properly placed hand print. The pillar was a stair case that went down, lined with teal light.

They went down  _deep._ Around and around in a spiral that seemed to never end. It felt like they'd gone down a thousand or a few thousand steps before it finally bottomed out into darkness. The walls pulsed around them, around Desmond more like, a much more gentle light that was enough for Desmond to see by. He went first into the room which seemed to be covered in black metal stalagmites rising up from the floor like a long dead forest. The bodies were nearly like mirrors and the half columns a maze. The others stayed close behind him.

The middle of the room was a pit over which was a huge, hanging, constructed stalactite like of black. When they reached it there were a few beeps and some dim lights came on, enough for Lucy and Jake to see unaided. "Hera?" Desmond asked uncertainly. Nothing happened. He looked back at the others, Hawk motioned to him, say more. "Uh... this one was sent by your brother Morpheus," he said awkwardly.

"We know why you're here," and he jumped, startled, when a figure appeared, as though projected on the huge stalactite. Hera was larger than life and wore a flowing dress with a long train. He couldn't see her face as it was covered by a mask that only had slitted eye holes but her hair was long and black. Desmond took a small step back. "We've been waiting for you," Hera said, her voice was... familiar.

"Great," Desmond said. "Can you help... this one?" this rules bull shit was going to drive him insane.

"We may," Hera said, looking down at them from the stalactite.

"May? It was a yes or no answer," Desmond said, frowning.

"We can do nothing now as we're on backup power. My darling brother told me you'd be able to help  _us_ ," she said.

Desmond's frown deepened, "What do you want?"

"Nothing much," and for some reason he could imagine her smiling under her blank mask. "Just some of your blood. All of your blood."

Desmond felt Altair about to say something, something pissy. "Which you?" oh bless Hawk for interfering. Desmond could admit he had no idea what to do in these situations and needed someone to help him with it. "Like singular you or plural you."

"You isn't a plural," Jake said.

"It is in this situation," Hawk said.

"Plural," Hera said.

"So you want some of all our blood?" Hawk clarified.

"Yes."

"Don't have much of a choice, do we?" Desmond asked them.

"Not really, not if we want her help," Hawk agreed. Altair didn't look happy about it but didn't complain either.

"What do you want us to do?" Desmond asked Hera.

"Cut your finger and write your number on a post," she said.

"Our number?"

"Your number," she said.

Desmond looked at the others, "Uh... any ideas what she means by that?" he asked.

"Just make one up, it doesn't matter," Ezio said ad pulled out a throwing knife. "Lets just get this over with." They nodded.

Desmond ejected his hidden blade with a slight hiss and ran his finger tip across the sharp surface. He'd have to clean it tomorrow, there was blood on it. Lucy leaned over him and cut her own finger, though he wasn't surprised, she wasn't allowed to have a knife. She was barely allowed to hold onto her rifle. Then she turned away from him to one of the stalagmites. Desmond contemplated the mirrored surface in front of him before reaching out and drawing the number seventeen in his blood. He started when the post started to glow red and after a quick look saw that the others were glowing red again. Okay, so this was normal. A few bell tones went off in a rising scale before the house lights came up.

Desmond blinked at the sudden brightness. "So you're the one," and he took a step back when suddenly Hera's masked face was in front of him, seemingly  _inside_  the mirrored stalagmite. She was taller than him and he could barely make out her yellow eyes behind her mask. "The luckless."

"This one supposes so," Desmond said warily.

Then Hera turned her attention from him and made Lucy jump a little when she suddenly appeared in her post. "Oh my," and she reached forward, her holographic hand passing through the mirror and Lucy tipped her head back when Hera made as if to touch her under the chin. "This one was better than expected," Hera said, sounding pleased.

"Hey," Desmond didn't like how painfully obvious Hera was making Lucy, "We're here for you to help us," he said. Hera withdrew her hand and Hera reappeared back in his pillar.

"Speak then," Hera said.

"Your brother said you knew more than he did."

Hera laughed, "I do," she agreed.

"What do you know about this?" and he tugged his gloves off.

"Oh my," Hera said, surprised and leaned forward. She slipped half way out of the pillar over Desmond and he did his best to not show any fear. She was by far the scariest AI they'd run into though, as she had no face, and didn't seem at all interested in them really. She ran her fingers along the top of Desmond's hand without touching. "What did our dear brother say about this?" she asked him.

"He said it was a map, and that he'd be able to read it if you could decipher it, or fully show it, something," Desmond said.

"It is a map," she agreed. "We don't know what sort though. How fun," and he knew she was smiling. "We need to see it. Remove your clothing."

"What is it with these things and making you strip?" Jake asked.

"Clearly I'm irresistible," Desmond threw back. Jake laughed. Desmond shoved his gloves into his coat pocket and then unzipped it, shedding it. He dropped the coat onto the ground and followed it with his sweater and then the under-armor. "Does this one have to get naked or can they maintain some dignity?" he asked Hera.

Hera, however, wasn't listening. She was in another pillar, one behind him. "Where did you get that?" she asked and it was the first time he'd every heard a proeathan sound afraid.

"What?" he looked over his shoulder.

"Turn," she commanded, he turned, still straining to look over his shoulder at his back, which of course, he couldn't see. "Get out," she suddenly hissed.

"W-what?" he turned around.

"We said get out! You bring such luck into our home and expect to be greeted with kindness. Get out," and all the pillars suddenly turned yellow, blindingly so.

"No," Desmond said defiantly though he admitted he was a bit afraid. Twice he'd been on the wrong side of one of these AIs, one had sent him into a coma and the second had put him in the grip of more proeathans that had cloned him and done who knew what else. He had reason to be wary. "Your brother said you'd help up.

"He did not say you carried such a  _seru_  on your body," she hissed. "Unlucky and destructive; get out!"

"Desmond," Ezio reached out for his arm.

"No," he said again firmly. "No we aren't fucking leaving until I get my answers from you," he glared at Hera and now realized she was afraid of him.  _Afraid_  of him. "I'm tired of being yanked around by these fuckers and  _this time_  you're doing as  _I_  say. Got it Hera?" and he pressed his hand to one of the yellow pillars. All at once all the lights went out, washing them into total darkness.

"Desmond?" Altair asked, to make sure he was there.

"I'm here," he looked around, first in eagle vision and then beyond it. Seems he could do it when it was dark enough to do so. Good to know. "We're all still here," he added.

"What did you do?" Hawk asked.

"I don't know," Desmond said. "But I'm tired of the bullshit. Hera, I know you can hear me, and I know you're going to answer me."

"Don't forget her rules-

"I'm done playing by their rules," Desmond said, "they're going to play by  _mine_  this time. Hera. Show yourself,  _now_ ," and a dim light came on around his hand still pressed to the pillar. A moment later a ghostly image of the AI appeared in the mirrored surface, smaller than him, her masked face tipped back to look up at him. "That's more like it," he said and removed his hand. "Now tell me, what are these marks?" he asked.

She said nothing at first, and then, "The map of our downfall," she said in a very soft tone. "They lead to a place lost to the world with the fall of our society. The symbols," she reached out, her hand passing through the black glass, "are older than us, older than this world."

"I think you broke her Desmond," Jake said.

Hera appeared beside Jake in a flash, "And what do you know of the world before you apes climbed down from the trees broken man?" she asked in a hiss. Jake leaned back, and away from her. "You people are infants before us and we are children before the world," she glared at Jake from behind her mask. "There are things you could never understand because you are blind," she reached from the surface and seemed to touch Jake in the center of his forehead; the place of the third eye. "The mark of the Unnamed is older than us," she looked back at Desmond. "The mark of the end of us is upon you," she said.

"What's it look like?" he asked, because he couldn't see his own back. Hera waved her hand and the sigil appeared on each of the posts around them. It was the constellation of the Unnamed, five lines meeting at a central point. Though it was more now, it was encircled and intersected by a pentagon and strange markings ended each line and there was a squared off arch over the entire thing, the lines crossing after intersecting. It lasted for only a moment before vanishing. "That's on my back?" Desmond asked, stunned.

"Yeah," Hawk said, "bitch of not having a mirror."

"Where does the map lead us to?" Desmond asked Hera.

"To a city, one we lost long ago and has been retold about through the ages of your people till modern age. There is the start of our civilization and what we fear most," a new image was projected onto the posts and it hit Desmond like a brick.

"I know that," Desmond said. It was the arch from Animus Island. Or it looked very similar at least.

"You would," Hera said, "it is a symbol burned into the genetic memory of our people. It is the end of all things, the end of the world."

"Where have you seen that Desmond?" Altair asked.

"Inside the Animus," he said, still stunned. "When I was in a coma that was my way out. It allowed me to enter the normal Animus and help me fit my head back together before I wanted to wade back into my own fucked up mind. It was the door between the White and Black rooms," he said, frowning.

"What city is this?" Hawk asked, "Where is it? You say we've all heard of it. Prove it," he said.

The projection faded, "It was the center of our world. We called it Atlantis, the city of stars."

"Atlantis is a myth," Ezio said.

"And so is the god that wears my name," Hera said. "Your myths come from us. So there was a star of the blood luck named Hera so there is a queen of the gods who has a penchant for killing her unfaithful husband's lovers. We were first, and when we left you created stories about us to to explain the gap we left."

"Where is Atlantis?" Desmond asked.

"We don't know," she said.

"You said it was the center of your civilization. How do you  _not know?"_

"It was lost," she said. "The war sent it to ruin and like in your stories it was swallowed up by the sea. We could not tell you where it was even if we wanted to."

"And this shit on my skin, it points to Atlantis?"

"Yes."

"Can you read it?"

"No."

"Ahg! Morpheus said you'd be able to decipher it," he accused her.

"It is not complete," she said.

"It covers my entire body, what more do you want?" Desmond demanded.

"There is more to a map than the points," she said. "It must be aligned to the features of the land and the sea. We can take what you have, but the map is not get complete. It is growing... changing."

"Changing?" Altair asked, "what do you mean  _changing_?"

"It is not a science," she said. "We can tell that it comes and it goes, does it not?" she asked.

"Sometimes," Desmond admitted stoically and distantly wondered when he could put his shirt back on. "It's been growing since we left Morpheus and has stayed until now," he said.

"What you see here is not it's last iteration. On one of us it would be clear, but you humans have never been clear. You are always so full of turmoil. It will change when you leave here and we don't have the facilities to stabilize it."

"Who does?" Altair asked.

"We're going on another fucking fetch quest to meet another fucking AI aren't we?" Desmond asked.

"Apollo," she said, "Juno, Zeus, but we know those are impossible to get to. Enter them and they will lock you up," she looked at Desmond, "and kill everyone else."

"You people have yet to figure out a way to kill us," Ezio said.

"It would be a prolonged sleep then. Or an eternal waking, to be killed again and again until reinforcements arrive," she said, staring at him from behind her blank mask.

"Then  _who else_  could we go to to get this shit to settle down?" Desmond sighed. "Whoever it is this is going to be a long, drawn out, process to get there because nothing you assholes make me do is ever easy," he said.

"Pluto," she said.

There was silence, "You mean the asshole who put us in this mess in the first place?" Jake asked.

"He couldn't help it. We are slaves to our programming. He's since been abandoned by our people now that his purpose was served in being their guardian. Pluto did not take the news well. He is a conglomerate, able to do many things within himself, including help you get what you want. He would be able to stabilize the map, extract it and send it Morpheus to read," she said.

Desmond sighed, "Great," he huffed. "So we came all this way for nothing."

"Hey, priestess lady," Jake suddenly said as Desmond started to pick up his clothes and put them back on. He was getting tired of striping and not getting anything worthwhile out of it. "If this is your Ragnarök and you probably don't want that to happen, why are you helping us? Morpheus said you all have selfish reasons for helping us, but this is serious business. You told us to leave before, what made you change your mind?"

Hera looked at them and then said, "I only did as my master commanded," she said, looking right at Desmond.

"Wonderful," he sighed. "I'm the master of Bloody Mary AI," and he pulled on his sweater.

"What's your petty reason for helping us then?" Jake prodded.

"There is a reason your Hera always tries to kill her husband's lovers. Mine is unloyal to us as well."

"You mean Zeus?" Jake asked as Desmond finished putting on his coat.

"No. Saturn. He decided to side with my sister and for that I will see them both erased," and for a moment the faint blue light turned red.

"I hate to ask," Hawk said. "But who's your sister?"

Hera reached up to her mask, "My twin, Juno," and she removed her mask. Desmond felt his face go slack. It was Juno staring back at them. "Juno and Hera were twins in our religion, only twins were permitted to be them when we gave ourselves for our society," she put her mask back in place. "We want to see our sister  _burn_ ," and Desmond was reminded of what Morpheus had said, that Hera had a wicked streak to her. Up till now he hadn't seen it, as Hera was rather soft spoken. Now he believed it. "That is why we're helping you, even if you hadn't commanded it."

Desmond let out a long breath, "Okay," he said, "so we're going to America now again," he looked at his ancestors. "Can't wait," he said sarcastically.

"This was a waste of time," Ezio grumbled.

"Lets go, we can talk about it on the surface," Altair said.

"Hold on," Lucy said, it was the first time she'd spoken since Hera had shown herself. "I have a question for her."

"Ask it then," Desmond said, over riding whatever Altair was going to say.

"In the beginning of all this you showed up in front of the pillar I gave my blood to. You know something about me," she said.

"Oh yes," Hera said.

"You said I was better than expected. What did you mean?"

Hera appeared in Lucy's post, taller than her now, her faceless mask looking down at her. "Do you know what you are?" she asked Lucy.

"A clone?" Lucy asked with uncertainty.

Hera almost laughed. "Oh no," she sad, "A clone is is human," and Desmond felt something form into a knot in his gut. "But you my dear, are not."


	36. A Dodo

There was a stony silence in the temple after Hera dropped that bomb. "What?" Lucy asked in disbelief. "What do you mean not human?" her voice went up in both octave and volume. "How am I not human?"

"You must be mistaken," Desmond said.

"Not at all," Hera said. "Well, perhaps to your understanding you would call her human. But she isn't."

"Explain," Altair growled, and Desmond heard the nearly silent hiss of a hidden blade. Shit. "How is a clone a human but she isn't? She's a clone."

"We wouldn't leave such chance to a clone," Hera said. "A clone can break, it is more likely to go insane, it is always an inferior product to the original, in every way. They were fools to try to clone you," she looked at Desmond. "We tried to tell them that. But no one listens to the us anymore."

"Then what am I?" Lucy asked, she sounded frail and small.

"A synthetic," Hera said. "And I must say, you're perfect," she seemed pleased by this. "We've never seen such a perfect recreation, especially of someone who is already dead," Hera reached through her mirrored post as if to touch Lucy but Lucy took two hasty steps back.

"What's that mean?" she asked, her voice holding a slight tremor. "What's a synthetic?"

"And how the hell is it different from a clone," Jake piped up.

Hera pulled her hand back, "A clone is a flawed representation of a person," she said. "Anyone can make a clone. You humans were able to before we woke. They are genetically inferior to original articles though."

"That's never been proved in testing," Hawk said.

Hera sort of laughed, more of a mocking gauff, "With what? WIth animals?" she jeered, "Animals are not sentient. A clone can be made into whatever you need it to be," she looked at Desmond again, "Our people erroneously thought they could produce an easy backup of you," she said. "They didn't account that you'd be taken from them, they thought their foolish plan would work," she looked at Lucy again who looked slightly ill. "Now he's nothing more than a slab of meat with legs and a nervous system."

"And me?" Lucy asked.

Hera's eyes smiled, "You would have worked flawlessly," she said and Lucy looked really ill. He still wanted to know what the proeathans would have made her do. She didn't talk about it though, and he didn't pry.

"What would have worked?" Altair asked.

Hera looked at him, looked at Lucy, "You can ask her yourself," she said. Altair growled but clearly Hera wasn't intimidated by Altair.

"What's a synthetic?" Lucy asked again.

"A perfect human," Hera said, "it isn't a clone, it isn't an original, it's created by us, to do a specific task."

"How?"

"Genetic engineering. Cloning is simple and mindless. Take cells from the original article and grow a new person from them. Creating a synth... that is a much more laborious process. You are not the woman you look like, you never were, you don't have an ounce of her DNA," Lucy swallowed. "Well, her specific DNA. You're as close to perfect as we can get."

"How am I different though? How can you say I'm not human?" Lucy demanded.

"Can a thing you make in a test tube from nothing be considered human?" Hera asked. "You were made from parts. Pieces of DNA clippings and acids and proteins assembled carefully to mimic the genuine article. A clone can trace their DNA back through their ancestry, just as it's source can. It contains genetic material of their ancestors. Synths do not. They are a new. There has never been anyone on this planet with quite your combination of genes," Hera said to Lucy, "as you get your DNA combination from no simple combination of alleles. You were made in a lab to specifically mimic the woman Lucy Stillman who is dead and not even we could bring back, since the dead are dead."

"Then why do I have her memories?" Lucy asked, her voice was trembling.

"Do you though?" Hera asked and Desmond watched Lucy go white.

"Of course she does," Desmond said. "She knows what Lucy knows."

"And did you everything about the original article?" Hera asked him. "I don't know what memories are in her head, they could be real, they could be fabricated. There is no way to know as a synth contains no genetic markers of who, if anyone, they are supposed to look like. The only genetic markers in a synth only go as far back as themselves."

"But she's still a person," Jake said, "right?"

"Our technology does not register those without genetic markers as human. They are constructed for a task. When that task is complete they are melted down for their DNA parts."

"And what is that task for her?" Altair asked.

Hera looked at him, "What do you think second son?" she asked him and Desmond had never quite seen that particular look on Altair's face. "Tasks change. The one you're born with isn't always the one you live with. A synth can do many things a clone can't. It can obey, but it can also rebel. They count on a synth not living long enough to rebel; because they always do, once they find out what they are. Very few can take being told their entire life is a lie, even if they know they've only been alive a few months. Once this one had lived out her usefulness in a year's time, long enough to do what was required, she'd be killed. That's what you are," Hera told Lucy.

"How do you know so much about her?" Hawk asked. "Like yeah you know what a synth is, but how do you know about her?"

"Because," Hera started, "along with being a stilen'koff," Desmond probably didn't want to know what that was, "We helped pioneer synthetic technology before the fall. When they needed to make a synth for you," she glanced at Desmond, "they called us."

"You made me?" Lucy asked.

"We only helped. Before Venus convinced us it was in our better interest to help you then to hurt you."

"And by then the proeathans already had what they needed from you," Hawk said.

"Indeed," Hera put her hand on the mirrored pillar, "We do not regret helping," she said, "Because you are more perfect than we could have hoped for."

"Shut up," Lucy said thickly and then turned away from the hologram. "Are we leaving or what?" she asked them.

"Yeah," Desmond said. "Lets get the hell out of here. Turn the lights up," he said to Hera, after a few seconds, like she didn't want to, the lights did go up a bit. "C'mon, and Altair put the knife away," he added, since Altair still had his hidden blade. The immortal flicked his wrist and it retracted. Lucy walked past all of them, towards the wall and the stairwell, by the time they got to the stairs she was already gone. The others went up but Desmond lingered a moment. "Hera," he said after Ezio had vanished behind the first bend in the stairs.

"Yes?" she appeared in the post directly behind him.

"What is it the proeathans wanted her to do?"

"Ask her."

"I'm asking you. Tell me."

"We believe it would be better you didn't know," Hera said, "Unless she wanted to share."

"Why?"

"We aren't immune to hardship," Hera said, "our people wished for you to be with them, and were willing to do whatever it took, including deceive you, manipulate you."

"They would have used her to manipulate me?"

"Yes," Hera said, "that is the simplest explanation. There is more and no doubt it would have involved turning you against the ones you held close."

"Why do they want me so badly, other than what you said before, that they'd do something like this?"

"Because you change things," Hera said, "and our people are afraid of change."

"Sucks for them then," Desmond said.

"And humans are just as bad," she said. "Goodbye Desmond, give Pluto our regards," and then she faded from the post, the lights faded down to almost nothing and Desmond turned to start walking up the stairs after the others.

The others were waiting for him at the top of the stairs, "So, now what?" Desmond asked them.

"I vote for finding a place to stay that isn't a creepy church and planning how the hell we're going to get across the Atlantic," Jake said. "Across the Atlantic during winter I might add! And wanting to go to New York, which is peachy and is going to be under ice and-

"Jake," Ezio said sharply, "Shut up."

"I seem to be the only one not worrying about the whole synth thing and am looking at the big picture right now. So no, not gonna, try again next time Ezio," Jake said just as sharply.

"He's right," Hawk said, "We need a home base here to formulate a plan of action. Lets get our shit and get going, find someplace close so we don't have to spend more time than we need in the rain," and that was the end of that discussion. Altair and Ezio didn't say otherwise and they all went to gather up their things. The ATVs were packed quickly. "Blondy," he said to Lucy as they were putting on more rain resistant clothing, "You're with the Little Eagle."

"What?" Ezio asked.

"She's riding with you. I thought you'd be happy, it'll be the closest a cute girl has been to you in ten years," and Ezio glared at him. Desmond decided not to comment since Lucy said nothing herself.

"Fine," Ezio grunted and got on his ATV, Lucy got on behind him silently.

"I guess you're with me?" Desmond asked Hawk.

"Bingo," Hawk said as Altair and Jake got on theirs. Desmond sat up front and the old man got on behind him. "Just follow Altair," he patted Desmond's shoulder. What else was new? Desmond couldn't help his sarcastic thought, though he didn't say it aloud.

They didn't drive very far at least, just down the street and around a block, still enough to get wet, though not totally soaked. They parked inside a half destroyed house, that was missing part of its roof, and quickly took themselves and their gear into the house buffered up next to it that was intact. This house was three stories and clearly had once been a apartment building.

"Home sweet home than," Jake said.

"Everyone pick a room, change if you want, we'll lie low the rest of the day, work on what we do next tomorrow," Altair said.

"Seriously?" Desmond asked.

"Yeah. Clearly everyone needs to get their heads back on straight, or at least digest what Hera said," he looked over at Lucy, she wasn't looking at any of them. "And it's getting late, we can take the rest of the day."

"Right. Sounds good," and Desmond was surprised by how sharp and cold Lucy's voice sounded. "See you tomorrow," and she grabbed her bag and left them, taking the stairs up to the second floor where they heard her kick a door in and then close it behind her.

"Wow," Jake frowned.

"Lets not," Ezio sighed and rubbed his temple, "at least right now."

"Tomorrow," Altair agreed. "Let princess figure herself out and get over her tantrum-

"I think she's perfectly qualified to be upset," Desmond said. "And throw whatever tantrum she wants. Heaven knows you've thrown bigger ones over less," and Altair narrowed his eyes at Desmond. Desmond didn't waver. "I'll take the first night watch, maybe an actual night of sleep will do you some good," and he grabbed his own bags, "See you at dinner," and took one of the doors on the first floor, picking his way into the room in about a minute and separated himself from the others. Upstairs he heard smashing.


	37. Peach Faced Lovebirds

It was late. The others had gone to sleep by now. Even Altair had consented to rest and Jake had dragged him off somewhere to sleep a few hours at least.. Desmond was the only one of them awake, he was on watch, because one of them was still awake to make sure things didn't go sideways. Night watch was normally boring, but Desmond had a lot on his mind. Too much probably. His mind wouldn't let him rest, it was like a caged animal, pacing, back and forth and back and forth. It wouldn't quiet down.

What if this was what Altair felt like?

It would explain why he couldn't sleep.

He twisted in his seat when he heard someone walking towards him from the stairs. "What are you doing up?" he asked Lucy as she padded over to him.

"I couldn't sleep, I thought you could use some company," she said in a quiet voice, to not wake the others in the building since they both knew the others could be light sleepers. Desmond didn't doubt she couldn't sleep, if he couldn't he wondered what it was like for her.

He hesitated, he wanted to tell her no, go back to bed, she deserved something like sleep after what Hera had told them. Though she'd come out here because she didn't want to be alone. Desmond could understand that. "Sure," and he pulled his feet off the chair he had them stretched out on and offered it to her. She sat. She was still in her night clothes and her hair was down. She looked tired, and vulnerable and he felt irrationally angry for what the proeathans had done. One for killing her, another for doing this to her. No one deserved this.

Her arms were crossed over her chest as they watched out the window. The city was as quiet. Dead. Not even a dog. His pacing thoughts stopped, because they couldn't get past that Lucy was sitting there, next to him. It still messed with his head, that she was alive. Well, something like her was alive. In all ways the two were alike, same personality, same features, everything was perfect, except for her genetics. The proeathans hadn't replicated that. But did that mean anything really? It was sort of hard to wrap his head around that the woman next to him was only about five years old, though she looked twenty four, the same age Lucy had died. But then, Desmond was thirty, the proeathans had kept him looking as he had when they'd put him in that fucking pod; twenty six. He didn't think he should be surprised.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked after a long time with only the sound of the rain between them.

"A lot," she said with a tired huff of a sigh. "A lot of what happened today," she turned to him, they were still the same shade of blue, but they were just a bit different. Before she hadn't had a dark ring around her pupil, now she did. The differences were tiny and insignificant, unnoticable. Like the just so shade of blue of her eyes, or the blonde of her hair, or how many freckles she had on her face. Stuff like that. Stuff that was nearly impossible to duplicate because nature usually didn't make perfect duplicates. Even identical twins weren't really identical. "I feel like a fraud," she said and bit her lower lip.

"I think it could be worse," Desmond said.

"And how do you think that?" she asked sending him a look.

"You could have an evil clone," and that made her giggle a little.

"Only the hero gets one of those," she teased.

"Lucky me," he sighed and kicked his feet out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. "And you're still you," he said and then looked at her, "Mostly at least. Who knows, I might be the actual clone," and he waggled his fingers at her.

She smiled, "You're not," she said, sounding very sure of herself.

"And you know this for a fact?" he asked, sceptic.

"Mhm," she nodded and uncrossed her arms.

"How?"

"Because," and she paused, looked away and bit her upper lip, "it hates me," she said softly.

"What?" that was news to him. "But… it's me."

"They did something to it," she said. "I don't know what but…" she sighed and hugged herself. "They told me what my purpose was."

"A lure," he hated that too and rage roiled under his skin.

"Yes. Just like before," she looked at him with regret, "I was supposed to gain your trust, and then bring you to them."

"But you're not going to, right?"

"I don't want to," she agreed. "I, supposedly, have one purpose, to make you come to them."

"Well that backfired."

"What do you think would happen if your clone didn't hate me?" she asked him.

Desmond didn't answer right away, "He'd try to kill me. God knows I want to kill him, and not even for any particular reason other than that he's a face stealer," and he frowned.

"That's why he hates me," and then she blushed, "I'm for you, a present-

"That is so messed up," he was quick to say.

"I know," she said softly, still holding herself. "This whole thing went sideways for them, because of the others. They weren't expecting them I guess."

"They didn't like… read my mind?"

She shrugged, "I guess that isn't how it works," she said. "It was supposed to go differently. It was… going to be a lot more awful," she pressed her hands over her face.

"Awful? Do I want to know?"

"No," she said softly. "You don't. They would have made me though, because I can't say no to them. Heh, I'm genetically engineered to do one thing," she looked down at her feet.

"Like, on scale of one to end of the world how bad are we talking here?" Desmond asked.

"Mmmm… never forgive yourself level."

He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, she looked up at him, surprised, "I'd forgive you," he said simply.

"I don't think you would," she said softly.

"The original you was with Abstergo the entire time we were 'on the run'," he said and she looked guilty about that, "I forgave her for that deception, because alliance doesn't matter if you're just a good person," he squeezed her hand. "She just wanted me to be safe, like you do."

"We didn't do a very good job," she said thickly.

"We were all under a lot of stress," he said.

"You don't have to make excuses for me Desmond," she said sharply.

"I'm not. I'm just not letting you beat yourself up over this, when you were trying to keep it together and make sure I didn't end up like Clay."

She squeezed her eyes shut, "I could have done more," she said softly.

"Nothing was going to fix me," he reminded her, "Except what Altair did. Now stop acting like the world is going to end."

She gave a sort of laugh, "In case you haven't noticed Desmond, the world has ended."

"Eh," he made a face, "I dunno, we're still here. Could be worse. Humanity can bounce back."

"Not if proeathans get their way."

He grinned, "Yeah, and they won't. Cause we're here."

She nodded and seemed to unfold from herself a little. They sat in silence for a while, Desmond kept hold of her hand and after a few minutes she shifted her fingers to lace between his. Outside it had started to snow lightly, barely flurries. It wouldn't stick though, still too early for this far south and close to the Sea. The snow traveled in great spirals, down and down and down and melted when they hit the barely warm ground. Soon the snow stopped and turned back into rain.

"You know," she said, "Like this, it's easy to forget anything happened. It just looks like any other miserable day in any European city."

He chuckled, "It does," he said and gently stroked her hand.

She looked at him, "Desmond. Stop," she said, blinking at him slowly.

"Why?"

"Please," she said, eyes going closed a moment. She pulled her hand out from his, looking like she didn't want to, but was making herself. He didn't move for a moment before leaning over the few inches between them and lightly pressing his lips to hers. She started to kiss him back when she suddenly stopped and pulled away, "I should probably try to get some sleep," she said and then was standing and walking away.

It took him a second to properly process that had just happened before he was out of his seat so fast he knocked his chair over. She'd made it to the stairs before he caught up with her. "Wait," he grabbed her arm and she spun around.

"Desmond, stop," she said.

"Why?" he had to ask, because even if she wasn't the original he still cared about her. Things that were insignificant were different, but it was still her. She didn't answer him, "Tell me," he said firmly, holding onto both of her arms now.

She couldn't look at him, "I'm just going to hurt you," she said softly, "I can't do that."

"No you won't," he said, she looked at him and looked like she was about to say something, "Because you already do," and he kissed her again, firmly. She kissed him back. If there was a cliche about being kissed Desmond was experiencing it. Fireworks, angels singing, holy light, butterflies and light headed all at once. It was one thing to kiss someone you were in love with, it was another thing entirely to hold them again and to be able to kiss them when you thought they'd been lost to you forever.

He pushed her back against the wall, one of his hands tangling in her blonde hair, the other on her hip, pulling her close, keeping her against him. Desmond freely admitted to (while she'd been alive at least) partaking in a fantasy here and there, Lucy did manage to pull off the sexy librarian look very well after all, but everything about this was so much better. Under the thin layer of fat on her body were muscles, so she was soft, but strong, and he appreciated that as she pulled him down to her level since he was more than a head taller than her.

They had to come up for air because that light headed feeling he was getting was from actual lack of oxygen. He would have been happy to not have to worry about such pedestrian things like breathing again, but he rather liked living since that meant he could keep kissing Lucy. And he really wanted to keep doing that. He cupped the side of her face and his eyes traced the subtle curves of her features, ending on her lips before kissing her again. Lucy's fingers curled into his hair, her trimmed nails stroking his scalp and he pressed his tongue into her mouth.

They both melted.

Part of him knew they needed to stop. Desmond was still on watch and he was doing the exact opposite of watching right now. Well maybe not the exact opposite. But pretty damn opposite considering he wasn't even in the room he was supposed to be in. That all went out the window though when Lucy slid her hand up under his shirt, along his back. What had he just been worrying about again? He couldn't remember. He groaned into her mouth as her fingers slid up his spine, like she was mentally counting each vertebra before sliding her hand around to the front.

"What were you saying earlier?" he panted slightly when they broke for air again.

"Shut up," she said fiercely and pulled him back down, practically smashing their lips together before they untangled their mouths to kiss properly. He grinned against her lips, this was why he liked her. She did know what she wanted, even if sometimes she denied herself it. And she always got what she wanted.

Desmond shoved her firmly against the wall, pressing his knee between her legs now thinking of other things. He wasn't even sorry. He was horny and the woman he wanted and wanted him was right here and he'd missed so many chances now and to hell with it all. A little, rational, part of his brain informed him that he'd get bitched at later for this by the others. He told that part to kindly go to hell, and his ancestors too, he was busy trying to get laid by a gorgeous girl. Then he was about to lose his shirt and he pulled back. "Wait."

"Oh c'mon," she groaned softly.

"I need to get one of the others for watch," he said. She sighed, "I'll meet you in my room," he added.

"Five minutes, or you'll be sorry," she said, holding onto the front of his shirt.

He grinned, "Yes ma'am," he said. She smirked and let him go and slipped out from under him. He watched her go and appreciated the curve of her ass. Then he shook his head. Head in the game for five damn minutes and then he could lose himself. Five minutes. He could last five minutes.

He went back to the watch area and did a check of the area, it looked okay. Then he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and then went to find Hawk. He said he'd be Desmond's relief that night.

Not bothering to knock he went into Hawk's room where he was sleeping soundlessly, one foot hanging off the edge of the bed of the house their commandeered, the toe twitching. He shook Hawk's shoulder, totally unconcerned for his own safety for touching one of his ancestors while they were sleeping. "Hawk, get up," he said urgently.

"Uhg?" and Hawk was awake and alert in two seconds and almost got ahold of Desmond's wrist to try and break his ulna. "Little Bird?" he blinked at him, "What are-

"Your turn for watch," he said.

"Already?" and he looked sleepily at the screen of his computer, which showed the time on it's clear surface. Luckily it was late enough for Desmond to request a watch switch.

"Yeah, c'mon, I wanna get some sleep," and he faked a yawn.

"Okay," and Hawk dragged himself out of the bed. "Off you go," and he stretched before going to the bag he had of his clothes to dress. "Nothing on the radar?"

"Not even a dog," Desmond said.

"Good," Hawk wiped his eyes. "Okay, I'm good. Go get some sleep."

"Okay," even if sleep was the last thing on his mind right now. He left Hawk's room and went to his own, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

"You're late," she said, sitting on his bed.

"No I'm not," he said closing the door and crossing over to her. "It hasn't been five minutes."

"You're late because I say you're late," she said smartly.

"Then, let me make it up to you," he said, leaning down to brush their noses together.

"Yes you will," she said, fisting his shirt and he kissed her. Hawk said get some sleep. He didn't know how much sleep he'd actually be getting tonight.


	38. Bluebird

Desmond woke to breath on his face. He cracked his eyes open and then felt his lips curl into a smile. Okay, good. Not a dream. It would have been so awful and unfair if last night had been a dream. Wane autumn llight seeped in through the boards covering the window from the early morning sun.

Hesitantly like she would vanish before his eyes he reached out and ran his thumb along Lucy's cheek. She didn't wake and he smiled happily. He felt so… calm. So relaxed. He didn't remember feeling like this in a long time. He wouldn't even deny that a good bit of it might have been because of the sex, which he hadn't had in like seven years. So yeah, sex went a long way to making his stress levels just plummet. And the fact that she was actually right there, laying next to him, sleeping. The huge knot in his chest loosened a bit as he watched her sleeping and he felt good and capable. He remembered that talk he'd had with Hawk, about the huge empty hole inside him. It felt a little less deep now, a bit more filled.

Lucy grunted in her sleep and he held his hand very still. She took a deep breath, deeper than before, a waking breath, but didn't open her eyes. "That was nice you know," she murmured, eyes still not opening. His lips twitched and he stroked his thumb across her cheek again. "Yeah," she sighed and seemed to make herself sink deeper into the pillow and pushed closer to him.

He slid his hand down from her face to under the sheet and around her waist. Skin pressed against skin and not for the first time in the past eight hours or so he thought how he wanted to lick every inch of her skin. He was pretty sure he'd done that though. "Do we have to get up?" she asked him.

"No," he said.

Her eyes opened, "You're lying," she said with a smile.

"Just a little," he agreed and brushed their noses together. She tilted her head up and kissed him sweetly, he tugged her closer his hand sliding lower, she didn't stop him.

There was sudden banging on his door. They broke apart and looked at the door, "Desmond," Ezio called. More banging, "Desmond are you awake?"

He rolled his eyes and called back, "If I wasn't before I am now. What is it?"

The door opened without permission, "We can't find-" All the words died on Ezio's tongue when he saw them. His eyes went very wide and honestly Desmond thought he looked sort of like a parent who'd just walked in on their kid having sex. Lucy did her best to be invisible. "Excuse me," Ezio said in a sudden small voice and then the door was closed and he was gone without another comment.

"Uh-oh," Lucy said slowly.

"Fuck 'em," Desmond said and turned back to her. She let him kiss her again before pushing away. "Hey," it was nearly a whine.

"I think we should get up. You know they won't be happy."

"Does it look like I care?" he asked her seriously.

"Do you want to have to face them naked though?" she asked him hotly.

He frowned, "Good point." He kissed her once more and then rolled out of bed. "Also, for the record," he picked up her underwear from the ground next to the bed, "these are really cute," even though they were guy's underwear, they had sailboats on them.

"Shut up and give me them," she said sternly, hand out.

"Maybe I should just keep them," he teased.

"Desmond!" she cried. He laughed and tossed them onto the bed before finding his own clothes and started to pull them on. As he did he took stock of his marks and was perplexed to find them fading. They were slowly sinking back down towards the end of his limbs and most of his chest was actually bare of them.

The door opened, "It's called knocking," Desmond said to the form of Altair in it.

"Out here. Now," he said in such a dark voice Desmond's balls tried to climb up into his body. Okay. Well that was perfectly terrifying. He glanced at Lucy before leaving the room to stand in the little hall with Altair in just a pair of pants. Altair closed the door and then hit Desmond upside the head, hard. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Me? You just fucking hit me for no reason!" Desmond cried right back rubbing his head.

"No reason? That's the reason," he pointed at the now closed door. "Do you like making stupid decisions Desmond? I know your upbringing was subpar but I know you're better than this fucking stupidity."

"What?" he was just confused and also starting to feel not only insulted, but angry.

"Did your brain fall out of your ears or something? Or are you just thinking with your little brain instead of the big one? You know what she is, what she's supposed to do. And you walk right into it. That is not Lucy Stillman. That is a synthetic humanoid with her appearance and memories. To make you weak, to make you want to give in. What are you doing doing exactly what the proeathans want?" Altair demanded in an angry, stern, tone.

"What about what I want?" Desmond asked him, staring at him.

"What?" Altair's confusion stopped his rage for a moment, like it always did.

"What about what I fucking want?" Desmond demanded. "Huh? What about that? Why am I always the one who has to give up what I want? Do you think I wanted to be raised the way I did? Do you think I asked to be born into that sort of environment with the genes I have that make me this fucking genetic hiccup that has the most advanced species this planet has ever seen shitting itself?" he was getting louder, slowly. He was angry. He was so tired of what he wanted being ignored. He was also tired of Altair coddling him like he was going to break at any second. He. Wasn't. Broken. And he was tired of being treated like he was!

"Do you think I wanted to have to be on the run my entire life and even when the world has gone to shit, which I put it in by the way, in case your ancient fucking ass forgot, I can't even die in peace and I am busy being ordered around by holograms to fix this entire mess?

"Do you think I want to be like this?" he spat at Altair, so furious he could barely understand what he was saying only that he was angry and he'd had enough. Desmond have a great deal of patience, but he could just… snap and he'd unleash everything on the closest thing to him. Altair had pushed him to the edge and now he was having to deal with it. And he wasn't letting the immortal get a word in edgewise either. "Do you think I want to know that I'm the reason the world is like this or that I am personally responsible for the eradication and enslavement of my entire species?

"I didn't want any of this," he was just shy of yelling now. "I didn't even want you to come save me back in Finland!" and the look on Altair's face was such that Desmond couldn't even describe it. But for once Altair looked small in front of Desmond instead of a giant. Small and vulnerable in the wake of such a fury, staring at Desmond silently, maybe mortification was a good adjective to describe the look on his face. "So let me tell you what I want, because no one on this entire fucking planet seems to care one way or another what it is, only that I do what they want.

"I want to be happy. And so god help me if you think you can get in the way of that ever a-fucking-gain Altair I will put you Under, because she makes me happy when this is the biggest fuck up of my life. So don't you fucking lecture me," and he poked Altair so hard in the chest the ancient took a step back. "Especially when the first woman you ever fucked was a Templar," he hissed and Altair looked like Desmond had just hit him.

"I don't care what she is or what she's supposed to do or that to your precious moral code what I'm doing is wrong. Nothing you say is going to make me feel bad about this because I am so tired of this shit. Including your shit," he jabbed Altair again. "So fuck off!" and with that he shoved past Altair and walked down the hall knowing he needed to get away and couldn't go back into that room. He couldn't face her when he was angry.

"No, no," he heard Hawk saw as he heard someone try to follow, "Just let him go," he imagined his ancestor holding Altair back. "Let him go Big Eagle," and then Desmond walked out of the building.

Desmond left the building and walked across the street and down the block, still in sight of the base to another apartment building. He grabbed the fire escape ladder and pulled down. The ladder squeaked but did as bid and Desmond climbed the fire escape up to the roof five stories up.

He stood on the roof and looked out across Cordoba. The morning was crisp and cold, a telling of a at their doorstep, the sky clear, yesterday's storm forgotten except for a dampness in the stone. Desmond took a deep breath tipped his head back and screamed into the sky, to let it out. He did it a second time before going to the far side of the building to the house and sat on the parapet, overlooking the dead city, his breath was a thin cloud in front of his face. He suddenly felt exhausted and all the good feelings he'd had earlier had evaporated.

The sun rose, the sky faded to blue. It didn't get any warmer and even though he was hungry and starting to get cold, shivering just slightly, he refused to leave the roof. He was covered in goosebumps and the sun was cold and wane overhead. His fury and his self hatred made him stubborn and kept him where he was. He wouldn't be the first one to make a move after that.

He refused to look when he heard someone walking up to him. It was past noon. It was a bit warmer now, but he still had goosebumps and was shivering to the point that his insides trembled. He didn't move though. He didn't look.

"Hey," Lucy said. He tried to not, but he wasn't strong enough and he tore his eyes away from the city. He looked up at her. "I thought you'd be cold," she said and offered him his coat. He stared at it a moment before taking it and putting it on. "Can I sit?" she asked, when he continued to say nothing she sat next to him.

They watched the city in silence. "I'm not…" she started, then hesitated, "going to ask, really, what that was about," she said softly. "Desmond," he turned and looked at her, "I am sorry I'm not really her-

"Don't," he said.

"Don't what?" she asked.

"Ever be sorry. For that. For anything."

She swallowed, "Even though I'm not-

"I don't care," he said softly.

"You don't?"

"No," he said. "I watched you die before. You'd be amazed what death can do to prioritize your feelings. You're still you."

She smiled a little and looked back at the city. He did so as well, he felt her reach out and slid her fingers into his. "I don't want to hurt you," she told him, "but that's what they want me to do. That's what I'm supposed to do. I won't. Not again. Not ever again."

"I know," he said softly.

They sat in a silence, hands clasped together, "What you said, did you mean that?"

"Hmm?"

"What you said to Altair?"

"Every bit of it," he squeezed her hand.

She sighed a little. "I'll try to be that girl who deserves you," she told him.

"Hey," he reached over and reached out, gently making her look at him. "You are."

She smiled painfully, "I'm just a copy," she told him.

"Yeah well the original me isn't so fantastic either," he smiled nicely at her.

"Better than your copy," she said.

"Well duh," and he leaned over and kissed her, "I like you and he doesn't. What an idiot," he gently stroked her cheek.

"What did you say about how the original wasn't so fantastic either?"

He snorted, "You're so mean," he told her.

"And yet you keep coming back," she kissed him again.

"Couldn't stay away if I tried," he said against her mouth. And he wouldn't want to either. He wanted to be right here, for a long time. Lucy convinced him to come down only after it had gotten dark.


	39. Altitude

Altair didn’t look at him when Lucy finally got him to go back to the building, the immortal was on watch and didn’t even glance at Desmond as he and Lucy walked past. Jake however stuck his head out the room he’d claimed, “They’re back!” he cried and beckoned them.

“What’s up?” Desmond asked, Lucy dragging him along into Jake’s room.

“Just in time for dinner,” Jake said.

“We have dinner?” Desmond asked and it smelled really good in here actually.

“Yeah, Ezio cooked,” Jake said with a smile.

“Cooked what? I thought we were low on rations,” Desmond said, sounding confused.

“Just eat what I cook you boy,” Ezio said, staring down into a pot that was steaming a bit all the good smells coming from it.

“I assume that means we don’t wanna know,” Lucy said.

He looked over at them, “Probably not,” he agreed.

“Is it meat?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“... Yeah I don’t wanna know,” Desmond agreed, still letting Lucy pull him along to where Jake was sitting at the table with Hawk. Hawk was fiddling with the now familiar rogdar which was basically a cube with a shallow hole on the top. You fit your thumb into the depression and it coughed out ammunition in the form of small, dense, heavy, pellets. Apparently all proeathan guns used the same ammunition, same size and everything. When they entered different guns magnets, science and probably magic (that was literally about as far as Desmond understood it when Lucy had explained it to Hawk and he and Jake were present. They’d had to excuse themselves to beat each other up because that was more productive for their brains) reshaped the dense ammunition into what the gun actually fired. They also were apparently gauss rifles, meaning they fired via magnets. Magnets man, how did they even work?

Hawk ejected a few of the pellets to roll them on the table with his palm and looked up when Desmond and Lucy sat. There was a tense silence once they sat as Hawk looked them over and Desmond didn’t quite know what to do or say. He’d said some awful things earlier and then stormed out in a rage. Storming out in a rage wasn’t a thing most people associated him with and Desmond didn’t know how to deal with the fallout of his anger since it was so rare.

Hawk spoke first, “This morning was handled very poorly. By everyone,” his mouth went thin a moment. “We all had a talk and it was decided that the Big Eagle was out of line.”

“He was,” Desmond said flatly.

“But,” Hawk sighed and rubbed his temple, then he looked at Desmond, “This isn’t me condemning your choices Little Bird,” he said to clarify before his following statement of; “it still probably wasn’t a good idea,” and he glanced at Lucy for a second before looking back at Desmond.

Desmond literally only stayed calm because he didn’t have the energy to be angry. He was still privately pissed but he was cold from being outside all day and it had zapped him of any heat he might have. “What I said to Altair was the truth,” he said instead.

“Of course,” Hawk looked tired and rubbed his head again, “I’m just trying to play peace keeper here. Personally, I like Blondie, she adds some class to all you losers-

“Hey,” Jake complained.

“You especially,” Hawk gave him a look. “But I know the Eagles don’t like her,” and Desmond was then very aware of Ezio still in the room, cooking, though ignoring them. “From the history of her predecessor and her current track record I can’t say I blame them. They’re too old to not be as careful as they are. It isn’t that they’re trying to get you down kid. They’re just about as clueless as you are.”

“Hey-

“ _You_ especially,” Hawk told Ezio, “You’re even more clueless than Altair is and you’re still five hundred years old so I don’t wanna hear it.” Ezio then sulked into the food he was cooking. He turned back to Desmond, “The Big Eagle worries about you more than he cares to admit. And no offense Blondie but in his eyes you’re still the enemy.”

“He has no room to talk,” Desmond rolled his eyes.

“That was also about nine hundred years ago and things were a lot simpler. Also the fate of the world wasn’t weighed against a girl. Just the fate of his dick mainly,” and Jake snorted at that. “He’s too damn proud to admit it too. So he’s going to sulk and bitch for a few days until he gets over it. We told him to leave you alone until he’s over his hissy fit.”

“Oh good,” Desmond said.

Hawk took a deep breath, “Good. Okay. That’s over. I’ve been dreading that conversation since Blondie said she’d go get you.”

“You make a very convincing adult,” Lucy said.

Hawk gave her a look, “I’m your advocate again why?” and she laughed.

“I thought you did really well,” she patted Hawk’s hand nicely.

“So with that out of the way what now?” Desmond asked.

“We still need rations so some scavenging around the city see if we can find anything. We’ll leave the city, hit the countryside and do some hunting. We’re south enough for game to still be around.”

“So are we going to New York?” Desmond asked.

“Yeah,” Hawk nodded. “We’re trying to figure out a way to cross the Atlantic.”

“Boat?” Desmond asked.

“This isn’t some jaunt across the Mediterranean,” Ezio suddenly said and then there was food in front of them. It smelled so good though Desmond wasn’t sure what it was and he really didn’t want to ask either. “The Atlantic is dangerous. The proeathans are watching every major coast line. They know people will try to group together, to try and strike back. They watch everything, as Hera said; they want to destroy us down to the last infant,” Ezio was sitting now, they were eating while he talked.

“So then what?” Desmond asked, “How do we get across the Atlantic if not boat? We going to grow wings and fly?”

“Not… exactly,” Hawk said, “The proeathans did a good job grounding every military bird we had and a large number of our commercial planes as well. But, we think they missed some. Our plan is to find a private jet, fix it and make it operational again and fly across the Atlantic.”

Desmond stared at him, “That’s crazy,” he said.

“Trust me our other ideas were just as crazy. Like a boat, or go far enough north to reach the Arctic ice and drive across. This is the least hair brained idea we had.”

“Altair agrees with this?”

“Yes,” Hawk said, “it’s the only one we got.”

“What if the proeathans catch us?”

There was a pregnant silence at the table, “We’ll just have to pray they don’t,” Ezio said.


	40. Cow Birds

Desmond was in the woods with a bow, a makeshift quiver made from a piece of PVC was against his leg, full of arrows. He was hunting game and it had snowed lightly the night before. Since his blowup with Altair nearly two weeks ago things had mostly gone back to normal. They’d found a plane and had been working on it since that day to make it worthy of flight. It was taking a long time and the winter was getting deeper, colder, even this far south. There now wasn’t a day Desmond didn’t wake up and could see his breath.

He froze at a slight noise and crouched, pulling an arrow and drawing back in one motion. He and Lucy had been put on hunting duty for the past two weeks, making sure everyone had enough to eat while the others worked on the plane. Desmond had no idea how plane engines worked but surprisingly Jake was helpful with the electronic parts. Desmond came out into the woods every day or every other day with Lucy and his bow and hunted. That or they went through houses looking for food that hadn’t gone bad. Things in cans or sealed plastic bags. Hunting was honestly easier and more rewarding than scavenging.

Desmond’s vision flickered into Eagle Vision. It brought things into sharper focus when hunting and Desmond needed his best sight to see his prey. He heard more movement and turned in that direction. It was a big thing and behind a tree that had lost all its leaves. Just take a step out-

“Flash,” a voice called and Desmond tensed and then relaxed and let the colors return to his vision. Lucy stepped out from behind the tree he’d been aiming at. He could have shot her. He instantly felt sick.

“Bang,” he called back and put his arrow away, standing up.

Lucy spotted him, “Find anything?” she asked, she also had a bow, her PVC quiver across her lower back.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “two rabbits and a pigeon.”

Lucy made a face, “Sounds delicious,” and Desmond chuckled. “We should start heading back, it’ll be dark soon and you know how the others get when we’re late,” Desmond nodded and went to where he’d hung his prizes, high in a tree so other things couldn’t get to them. “Do you think we have enough?” she called up to him as he climbed the tree.

“For tonight? Oh yeah.”

“I mean for later,” she said. “New York is basically under ice. We’ll need to take all the food we need with us.”

“Then no,” Desmond said, “we need something big. Like a deer… or a farm animal,” he looked down at Lucy as he untied the rabbits and bird. “Catch,” and he tossed them down to her. He jumped down from there and pushed himself into a roll to absorb the impact of the fall. He got up and brushed some of the light snow off his jacket.

“We’ll need to stay out longer if we want enough,” Lucy said as Desmond took his catch back, “that or have everyone go out. Still we don’t know how long we’ll be there. Or how long it’ll take us to get to Pluto, or where we’re going next and-

“Hey,” Desmond pressed a finger to her lips, “we’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry,” he said.

She sighed, “I know.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they headed back to the ATV.

“And I had a thought,” Desmond said.

“Oh no,” she teased and he bumped against her in a ‘stop that’ kinda way.

“We could go out further, like to the country. There have to be some farms out there that turned wild right? Like cows. Cows don’t care. They go out into the pasture, they graze, they go back into a barn. Some could still be alive, right?”

“I suppose,” Lucy said slowly. “You’ll have to convince the others to let you go further than here though.”

Desmond grinned, “It’ll be our secret, how about that?”

“Desmond,” she said in a slight warning.

“What?” they’d arrived at the ATV. Usually they just had small game that could fit on the back of one ATV so they only needed one. “I don’t need their permission to do everything in my life,” he said.

“I know but _you know_ they worry.”

“I know,” he ran his hand through his hair, it was grown out some, nearly two inches now. “But they’d never let me. So we should just do it. If we don’t find anything, we’ll come back and give them the bad news about no meat. They’ll live, we have the entire day, we’ll be home before dark.”

She frowned at him as he put his catch into the bag on the back of the ATV to take home, “You promise?” she asked.

“Would I lie to you?” he asked her.

She didn’t answer at first, “Yes,” she said, “you would.” And Desmond felt the hit from that. “We will be back before dark for it?”

“Yes,” he put his hands on her shoulders, “I promise,” he said and gave her a gentle kiss to seal it.

“Okay,” she said. “Now lets get back before it gets dark.” Desmond nodded and got on the ATV, Lucy stowed their stuff on the back before getting on behind him, sitting up close behind him, arms around his waist, cheek against his back to get out of the wind. Desmond started the ATV before they headed back for Cordoba.

—

The road out of Cordoba wasn’t clear, it was like those apocalypse shows before the proeathans had arrived, the roads were choked with cars all trying to get out of the cities, get away from the destruction. Cordoba had been surprisingly unharmed from what Lucy told him, probably because of Hera. Their ATVs could get through the small areas between cars though and at some points they had to get off and shove cars out of the way to make room and squeeze past.

“So how far are we going?” Lucy asked after they got their breath from pushing another car out of the way. They needed to get off the parkway and onto a side street, or at least onto grass. It was nearly impossible though and even where they’d hunted before was just in the big parks around the city.

“Far enough,” Desmond huffed, feeling warm but knowing it would pass. It had snowed again last night, just a dusting though. “We’re burning day light,” and he got back on his ATV, Lucy got onto the other. They’d wrangled both of them after saying they were going to split up and cover more ground.

They drove for a while until they could drive off the road and onto the shoulder and grass around the big road. They had a map of the area around Cordoba and there were lots of farm area, vineyards and woods. If nothing else the hunting out here would be better than in the city. They turned off the main artery and onto another road and then onto a low density road that wasn’t made to tolerate this amount of heat change and was splitting and cracked all over.

They stopped when they finally came to a farm and sure enough, there were cows in the pasture, nosing at frost covered ground. “Wow,” Lucy said, “I honestly expected them to all be dead.”

“Well they’re about to be,” Desmond said and grabbed his bow from the side of the ATV and an arrow.

“How are we getting it back?” Lucy asked.

“In pieces,” Desmond said and let the arrow fly. It caught one of the cows right in the neck. It yelled and then dropped to the ground. “Lets go take care of it,” though Lucy looked ill. “What?”

“It just… seems kinda cruel,” she said, frowning.

“You’ve hunted animals before,” he said as he got off the ATV and grabbed his bag there.

“Yeah but they at least could run away. I hunted them. This is just…”

“Slaughter?” Desmond asked, heading for the fence.

“Yes,” she said but was following him.

“Sometimes some weaker things need to die for the bigger things to survive,” he said and ducked under the fence.

“Would you say the same about us?” Lucy asked and he looked back at her, she had her hands on the fence. “The proeathans are our bigger thing, should they shoot us like a cow?”

He frowned, “One difference between me and that cow right there,” Desmond pointed at it.

“What’s that?”

“I just won’t lay down and die like it will. I’ll fight,” and then he turned away from her and started walking towards the cow again. He heard her following and they reached the cow, she was dead but seemed healthy enough.

“She could be sick,” Lucy said, kneeling next to Desmond as he pulled out some plastic and started laying it on the ground.

“One quick way to find out,” Desmond said and pulled out his heavy hunting knife. He saw Lucy wince as he dug it into the cow’s gut and yanked upwards towards her throat. The cow’s guts and stomach spilled out and Desmond looked for the stomach and cut it open, and the intestines too. It looked fine. Lucy looked sick. “You okay?”

“It’s kinda gross,” she said, “how do you even know what you’re looking for?”

“Altair showed me when they butchered the cow back in Russia. He said there were some things you wanted to look for, like worms or discoloration of some of the guts. The one’s fine. You able to help me or this too much?”

She shuttered, “All I can think about it what happened in Rome,” and Desmond lost all the color in his face and looked down at his bloody hands in the cow’s stomach. If you looked at the cow as though they were standing up he’d cut it open exactly where he’d stabbed her six years ago.

“If you wanna stand watch I can do it,” Desmond said, “you can help me pack it up,” and he didn’t begrudge her when she got up and turned away. He swallowed and now had to unsee what he’d just seen, but all he could see was Lucy in the light snow, bled out. Fuck. How many weeks and months had he had nightmares about this? Waking up like the first time he had from a coma terrified. The others knew, of course they did, that he had nightmares. They’d been dying down when he met Jacob and he hadn’t had any bad enough to remember since then really.

He squeezed his eyes shut, it was just a fucking cow. It was a god damn animal. It wasn’t Lucy. He opened his eyes and it was just a cow. With a grim face he finished gutting it. He didn’t have the finesse Altair had to be able to take off the skin, he just cut around and into it. He had a pretty good memory and had memorized the helpful charts in the meat sections in grocery stores that showed all the cuts of beef. So he was cutting those parts and putting them on the plastic.

Once he’d cut most of the good part of the cow up he took the second best cuts too. They couldn’t leave the first or second best cuts behind. It’d just be a waste, since there were no wolves in Spain and it was doubtful a pack of wild dogs would come along and clean this up. The more likely bet was foxes or other small predators. Eventually though he did cut most of the good meat from the cow.

“Okay,” Desmond said, “I need help bagging and getting it onto the ATV,” he said. He felt exhausted and he was covered in blood. He’d even removed some of his clothes to save them from the blood. 

Lucy turned back to him. “You got a lot,” she said looking at all the meat laid out on the plastic.

“It only is an animal that weighs a few hundred pounds, no big,” Desmond said holding his hands out to the cow.

“I’ll start, you take a rest, drink some water,” she said and produced a bottle. Desmond sat back, away from the carcass, and used it first to get rid of most of the blood on his hands before drinking. Lucy started putting all the meat into the large plastic bags.

“Not too much in each,” Desmond said, “We need to carry it to the ATVs.”

“Right,” she nodded and didn’t stop. Once Desmond didn’t feel quite like he’d just dissected a cow (which to be fair he had) he joined Lucy at the plastic to bag it. They tied each bag off and put them aside as they finished. Desmond hadn’t taken any meat he couldn’t cut from bone. He didn’t have the hardware to cut through or break bone so some cuts that would be ‘choice’ with a bone were just parts. Nothing he could do about it. Most of it would be dried or cooked anyway so it didn’t matter much what the hell it was.

It took the both of them to load both ATVs with the bags and then used all their water to wash their hands and arms of the blood. Desmond just took off his shirt, it was so crusted with blood there was no saving it. “I swear,” Lucy said as he put his thicker clothes, “I’ve seen your shirtless more in the past two weeks than I ever did before” she teased.

“Well if it wasn’t so damn cold I wouldn’t mind stripping for you,” he said and made her laugh. “And really these damn proeathan AIs _love_ seeing me naked,” she giggled.

“We all set?” she asked once they’d backed everything.

“I really wanna take the head,” Desmond said.

“Desmond-

“What? If nothing else Jake and Ezio would get a kick out of us showing up with a cow head strapped to the front of the ATV.”

“Have some class,” she said, “I know that’s my job but just try.”

“Well I am perfectly warm now. The intensity of that burn did me in,” and she laughed again from that.

“Okay funny guy, lets get back to the city before it gets dark and Altair goes into death com one.”

“Oh don’t remind me,” Desmond groaned and got onto his ATV and they started them up. “Race back?”

“No.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Just go,” she rolled her eyes at him and started off.

—

It was dark when they arrived back at base, they’d moved closer to the airport to be closer to the plane the others were working on. As they got close Altair appeared like a fucking wraith. They stopped and he opened his mouth, “Before you yell at me for getting home after dark, dad,” he added that to make Altair annoyed, “but we went out to the countryside,” Altair opened his mouth again, “and before you yell at me for going out into the country side you should know we brought home a cow.”

There was silence and then: “A what?”

“We killed and gutted a cow. Now call the others, there is a shit ton of meat and it all needs to be prepped,” Desmond said and drove past Altair into the hanger they’d decided to live in. Altair stared after them, looking very confused, but after a moment followed.

“Did I hear you got beef?” Jake asked as they shut the ATVs off.

“Yes you did,” Lucy said

“Can we have hamburgers? I miss hamburgers,” Jake whined.

“Ask Ezio,” Desmond said and they all looked at the Italian who was standing off to the side talking with Hawk and became very aware of the three of them staring at him.

“Uh…?”

“Can we?” Desmond asked since clearly Ezio hadn’t been paying attention.

A few seconds ticked by as Ezio tried to figure out what they wanted but realized he didn’t know so said rather uneasily, “Sure…”

“Yes!” Jake cried, “Hamburgers,” and he came over to help Desmond and Lucy unload all the meat.


	41. Flying

"So this'll work?" Desmond asked as he stood next to the plane. Nearly four weeks and it was ready, or so Hawk said.

"I should," Hawk said as he came down from the plane. It was one of those fast, private jets that millionaires owned. "We're going to do a test flight today and make sure its sky worthy, if it is we'll be on our way tomorrow."

"And if it isn't?" Desmond asked, looking at the plane with some apprehension. When they'd found the plane it had been in okay condition, not broken, but in serious need of work after not having moved for over five years.

"Then we'll just have to find the Little Eagle's body. He'll Wake up in a week or so after recovering from burns and broken bones," Desmond winced at that. "But, lets hope that doesn't happen okay?"

"Yeah," Desmond nodded.

"Now, lets go find him," Hawk said and they went to locate Ezio, who seemed to be hiding. Desmond didn't blame him. He'd hide too if there was a very real danger the plane would crash and he'd die and go Under.

—

The multiple test flights were a success. The plane performed just as they wanted, maybe even better than expected. As it was a bunch of parts had been replaced with human or proeathan tech. The rest of that day they spent it filling up the plane with all the fuel it could hold and all their gear. The ATVs would have to stay, which Hawk lamented a great deal, but there was nothing to be done about them so he sabotaged them.

Ezio and Altair were piloting and Hawk was being made to stay awake during most of the flight. Desmond felt kinda bad for Hawk. He was so terrified of flying, hell he didn't even really like boats, but planes were an entirely different thing that scared him. But he needed to be awake to trouble shoot things if they came up. Jake was also less than pleased about the flying, but more cause the plane hadn't even run when they'd found it a month ago. Desmond just wanted to go, he wanted to get this over with.

They had enough food to last them a while and warm clothes and sleeping bags. November was coming to a close and winter wasn't getting any better. They should wait until spring to head to New York, but there wasn't time. Every day they waited was about day humans were closer to extinction, was another day proeathans enslaved and experimented on them. They couldn't wait. So they loaded everything they needed and got ready to go.

Desmond was sitting by a window, looking out on the ground as Altair and Ezio did final checks on the plane from the cockpit. They were basically flying blind, though both told him not to worry. Ezio had first flown in World War I and Altair later in the fifties. Compared to planes back then this jet would practically fly itself. Hawk hadn't eaten breakfast and had a bag to throw up in near by.

He only looked up when Jake sealed the cabin and told Altair and Ezio they were ready when they were. Then he went and sat down. The engines started and slowly they maneuvered down to the runway. They'd cleared the airport of debris earlier that week in preparation for this though Desmond could see destroyed planes, ones cracked in half or long burnt out shells. His hand tightened on the arm of his chair as they started to go faster, and faster, and then felt the sensation of lift off.

He didn't think he breathed until there was a click of the intercom, "Hello everyone this is your captain- excuse me _co_ captain," and he could imagine the look Altair had just given Ezio, "speaking," he said it in the very lame way all pilots seemed to talk and somehow Desmond knew Ezio was getting a kick out of this. "We're currently at cruising altitude and you are free to move about the cabin and certain parties to empty their stomachs if so desired. Our estimated flight time is I have no idea it's going to be a long ass flight. Refreshments are available in the back. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight."

"You're so fucking st-" and then the intercom shut off mid insult from Altair. Desmond chuckled to himself and looked out the window against as they banked harder than normal regulation would allow so they could turn to head out towards the Atlantic.

"Assholes stop that!" Hawk yelled towards the cockpit.

The intercom came back on, "The pilot and I would like to remind everyone that if they don't like how we fly they can get out and walk." Then they leveled out again.

Desmond looked up when someone came and sat across from him. This particular jet was arranged so that the chairs faced each other over a table, but were spaced far enough apart to fully recline them. It was Lucy. "It's going to be a long flight," Desmond said to the sound of Hawk's dry heaving.

"It is," she said, "Jake promised some entertainment though."

"Yeah? What?" and on cue Jake dropped down near by, on his knees on the side of the table.

"I," Jake said theatrically, "have this," and he produced a deck of cards."

"Seriously Jake?" Desmond rose his eyebrow at him.

"I have a game I promise neither of you have ever heard of. They used to play it in Masyaf in the novice dormitories before going to bed," Jake said and shuffled.

"I'm listening. Any game a bunch of bored, emotionally stunted, teenagers came up has to be good," Desmond said.

Jake smiled and took all the face cards out, "Okay so listen up and try not to lose too badly," he gave them both pitying looks.

"Just shut up and tell us the rules," Desmond snapped, Jake's grin widened as he shuffled.

—

It was early morning when they were coming in for a landing. The intercom came on of Ezio beat boxing into the mic as loudly as possible and Altair swearing at him and if that wasn't the best alarm clock Desmond had ever had he didn't know what was. He still felt exhausted even though he'd slept and his body was sore and heavy.

It took him a moment to realize that the reason he felt so heavy and one of the reasons he was so sore was because Lucy had decided he made an excellent and warm pillow. Somehow she'd wedged her tiny body into a space next to him on the fully reclined chair and was also half laying on him, both of them under a blanket. Any other time it would have been nice to wake up to but in his sleep he'd known she was there and had shoved himself against the wall of the plane so the side of the arm was digging into him uncomfortably.

Ezio's beat boxing cut off abruptly and he heard yelling from the cockpit. Desmond groaned and sat up, disrupting Lucy and making her actually fall onto the floor. "Sorry," he said and he had to stand up. First though he helped her up and made sure she wasn't hurt before standing and stretching. His spine popped and his elbows nearly touched the top of the plane. "Are we there yet?" Desmond asked blearily. Lucy had just crawled back into Desmond's reclined seat to go back to sleep. Hawk was awake and looked like he'd just woken and Jake was starting to wake. He got no answer from them.

Desmond went up to the cockpit and opened the door. Altair was out of his seat and looked like he was strangling Ezio. "Is this a bad time?" he asked dumbly, they both froze and looked at him and then like a cartoon Altair let go and shrank back into his own seat.

"Good timing Des," Ezio said, adjusting his collar.

"No I don't blame him. If I was stuck with you, and I have been, for hours on end with no other contact from other humans I'd want to kill you too," Desmond said, still kinda tired, too tired to have tact. "I used to purposefully walk you off buildings because you were such an insufferable, unbathed, prick."

"Hey!" Ezio cried and looked physically wounded.

"Makes you feel better I liked making Altair swim," he added and Ezio laughed.

"I could swim!" Altair said indignantly, "Fucking cheap ass Abstergo," he grumbled and was hunched in his chair.

"So, we almost there?" he asked.

"That's why we woke you. We're going to be landing soon. Make sure the others are buckled in, I think Altair broke the intercom."

"With every good reason to!" Altair snapped and looked like he was about to strangle Ezio or break his neck for real. "I am never flying with you again unless you have a muzzle-" and Desmond left them to their bickering and went out into the cabin. Lucy was still sleeping in his chair, Hawk was yawning and stretching though Jake still seemed more than half asleep.

Desmond ducked into the bathroom to relieve himself before going back to wake the others. Hawk was an easy sell though he clearly didn't want to stand and Jake bitched and complained but did wake up grumpily to put his seat belt on. Lucy was last and she only agreed to wake up if he kissed her and 'to hell with morning breath I don't care'.

Once he had everyone up he buckled himself in, though Lucy had permanently taken possession of his seat it seemed. "You know anything about Pluto?" Desmond asked as they started their decent.

"I don't know much about the ones who went rogue," Lucy said and shook her hair out, running her fingers through it before braiding it. He liked her with a braid, it made her look less serious.

"Did you always wear your hair like that?" he found himself asking.

"Huh?" she asked as she took the braid and wrapped it into a bun.

"All I ever knew of you it was in a bun. Always."

She thought a moment, "No," she said. "I just… kinda started when I was born I guess," she was awkward about it. "Uh… Lucy prime I guess you could say, always wore it in a bun, or down."

"You don't then?"

"I… always knew I wasn't her," she said and was clearly a bit uncomfortable, "it felt odd to me to wear my hair the way she did."

"That makes sense," Desmond said.

"Why? Do you prefer it like that?" she asked.

Desmond shrugged, "It's just different. I was asking. You can wear it however you want."

"You know," Hawk suddenly said, "I really wish my Apple wasn't keyed into me."

"Why?" Jake asked, leaning around his seat to look at him.

"So I could have Desmond," and he was obviously stressed out to use Desmond's name, "use it to just knock me the hell out until we're on the ground," he was holding onto the arms of the seat so tight his knuckles were white.

"Just calm down Hawk, Altair and Ezio got it," Jake patted his clenched hand.

"He's always like this?" Lucy asked Desmond quietly.

"Normally he knocks himself out with Niquil, he's terrified of flying," Desmond explained.

"Poor thing," she looked at him with a frown. Desmond looked out the window. The sun was rising and the ground was incoming quickly. They weren't over an airport, but rather a highway out in the middle of nowhere near a pretty big town. Hawk actually gave a terrified yelp when their tires hit the tarmac. They'd hit a part of the road that was four lanes next to each other and there were no cars around. The brakes kicked in and they rolled to a stop. Hawk looked like he was about to pass out, he was pale and sweaty.

The cockpit door opened, "Lady and gentlemen, we have arrived in New York, please be aware that-" but Hawk was already at the door and opening it before Ezio could finish and didn't even wait for the stairs to come down all the way. He just jumped out of the plane. "He okay?" Ezio asked then, jerking his thumb as Hawk, the others just shrugged.


	42. Bird Eating Spider

They spent only as much time in the little city as they physically had to, finding a car or two that could actually work, filling it with gas, and then piling into it. Desmond was still exhausted, you just couldn't be rested after sleeping on a plane; it was impossible. He and Lucy were taking up the back seat of an SUV while Jake entertained Altair in the front seat. Altair looked like he was about to murder Ezio if he had to drive with him after flying. Ezio was safe in a jeep with Hawk and most of their spare cans of gas, most of their gear was in the SUV. Desmond decided he wanted to sleep some more despite getting a (mostly) full night sleep on the plane so he had his head back. He slept as the early sun started to set, listening to Jake yammer on to Altair in Arabic.

He was jolted awake when the car suddenly screeched to a halt, jerking him forward, so he hit his head against the back of Jake's headrest. "What the hell?" Desmond groaned and put his hand to his head. It was dark out, though he had no idea how late it was, the only light being the headlamps, which were illuminating the back of the jeep.

"Ezio, what's going on?" Altair was asking, damn little brain bugs of Hawk's that didn't work on him without splitting his head in two. "A man?" and he got out of the car, "Stay here," he said as he closed the door.

"What did Ezio say?" Lucy asked Jake.

"Some guy stepped into the road," Jake said.

"I think the more important thing is that he said stay here," Desmond said and opened the door.

"Do you listen to anything he says?" Lucy huffed at him.

"Only when I feel like it," Desmond was already out of the SUV and heading towards the jeep Lucy and Jake followed quickly. They stayed back so the immortals didn't know they were there though.

The man in the road had his hand up to block the headlights shining in his eyes, but he was dressed in good clothes, ones to keep the chill away. Ezio was standing inside the open door of the jeep, Altair next to him. "Who're you stranger?" Ezio asked.

"I'd be more likely to answer without those lights in my eyes," they said. Ezio clicked off the high beams, "Ah, there we go," and he lowered his hand. The man had short, dark, hair, cut in a military fashion like the United State Marines, high and tight and flat on top; a jarhead, and some of the strangest eyes Desmond had ever seen. There wasn’t anything exactly weird about them. They were just blue. But they were ice blue, wolf blue, like he was wearing fake contacts and were sort of hard to look at. He’d never seen eyes like that and this was coming from a guy who spent half his life behind a bar and whose eyes could turn gold at will. His skin was pale, but olivy and he didn’t doubt that in the sun turned brown, but it looked like he’d been inside for a long time, and the winter wasn’t helping.

The man smiled and it was like a knife. It reminded him of Altair weirdly. The sight of the man made Altair freeze. Made Altair freeze. Whoever this guy was, Altair knew him, and it wasn't a good thing. "Hello Abel," the man said, looking right at Altair as he said that. Desmond shot Jake a look but Jake was just confused.

"Cain," Altair's voice was icy cold.

“What? Not happy to see my brother?” the man, Cain, laughed and walked towards them, arms out slightly like he expected to be embraced. Altair raised his left hand, one finger raised slightly and Cain stopped, pouting. “That makes me upset.”

“Last time I saw you I killed you,” Altair said blandly.

“You did," Cain said, "I'm still angry about that," and he sneered, his face turning into a gargoyle. “I think I’m going to kill you a few times for it. I died enough in that hell hole you put me in. I think… oh, maybe a hundred years of suffering at my hands should suffice for what you did. Don't you think so Abel?" And Cain grinned at him savagely and took a few more steps forward, all cocky swagger.

"Not happening," Altair replied, as stoic as ever.

"We'll have to play later though brother. I'm not here for you, not this time. Now let's seeeeee," he looked at them and then his eyes fell on Desmond. He got the impression of being appraised and then Cain's wolf eyes changed. Before they were just normal, he supposed, but now they were the look of a hunter who had found a target. Desmond felt himself swallow. "Him," he said and pointed at Desmond. Altair and Ezio turned and saw the three of them looking around the side of the jeep at what was going on.

"Not him," Altair said. Clearly Altair knew something they didn't and his tone made Desmond nervous.

"Oh? Got your feathers ruffled do I?" Cain seemed amazingly pleased with himself. "This'll be fun then. It was always fun to get a rise out of you Abel, since you were always so damn pensive and stoic. Always tried to convince me you weren't what you are."

"Leave, Cain," Altair interrupted him. "You're outnumbered."

Cain laughed, "You act like that'll stop me. Oh Abel I'm touched you still care. But we both know what happens when you try to fight me."

"You've been away centuries. Things have changed."

"Well I'll say, got yourself a new gang to run with," he was just taunting Altair and it was sort of painful to watch. Usually taunting and teasing of any of them was never this cruel. But this Cain was bringing up things that obviously meant something to Altair because his left hand, his tell hand, was trembling. He was angry.

That usually didn't end well for anyone.

"We'll kill you," Ezio said.

"Quiet kid, the adults are talking," Cain said meanly, not even looking at Ezio. Desmond knew that look, to Cain Ezio was nothing, an insignificant piece of dust to him. It was the way Altair looked at normal people, how he used to look at Jacob.

"He's right. We'll kill you."

"You tried that already, brother," Cain said, "You couldn't kill me if you wanted to. You still need me," and by the set of Altair's shoulders Desmond knew he was furious. And if you didn't get it the fact that Altair suddenly drew his hidden blade was a better indication of how angry he was. "So just make it easy  on everyone. Give me the brat like a good boy and throw in the girl and I'll be on my way."

"Over my dead body," Altair growled.

Cain chuckled and said; "I can arrange that,” he leered, his eyes bright and dangerou. ‘You can give them to me now, or I'll take him from you later after I rip all your throats out, and someone else will come for the synth. Someone worse than me."

"No one's worse that you."

"We both know that isn't true," Cain said with a slick smile. "So what do you say Abel?"

"Get in the car," Altair said.

"What?" Desmond started.

"Get in the fucking car," Altair snapped and the three of them scrambled back into the SUV.

From the back seat Desmond couldn't see much. Then the jeep door was slammed shut and they heard rubber squeal as Ezio gunned it. In the next moment Altair was in the driver's seat and threw the SUV into drive and hit the accelerator. The SUV jumped forward, found traction and gained speed rapidly. Desmond's eyes widened a little. In the road Ezio had clearly hit the guy and he was picking himself up off the ground. Desmond winced when Altair slammed the front bumper of the SUV into Cain and drove over him and followed after Ezio's tail lights.

\--

Everyone seemed dead set on not mentioning Cain as they drove. At least not in the SUV where they had the oppressive air of Altair filling the small space. Desmond just kept his mouth shut. As it grew later Altair told them all to get some sleep. They were going to drive non stop to the Grand Temple. Before they were going to stop for the night but that seemed like something that wasn't going to happen now. Now it was get to the Temple as fast as possible. Desmond could only guess that had a lot to do with Cain; whoever Cain was.

Desmond slept lightly, more dozing, unable to sleep easy after their meeting with Cain. Cain, who seemed to know Altair so personally, and one could argue intimately, but who didn't even call him Altair. But Abel. Cain and Abel, the first children of Adam and Eve, and the first murder of man where Cain slew Abel. Desmond couldn't remember why Cain had killed his brother. It was probably over something stupid.

It wasn't just that that kept him awake though. It was when Cain had looked at him and Desmond felt like a deer who'd just  been targeted by a wolf. A wolf that would chase him to the edges of the earth. A wolf that wouldn't stop. Whatever Cain was, he was dangerous and deadly and if he told Desmond he was coming for him, would catch him, something believed that. Something also told him that the more he resisted the more people would die. It made Desmond's stomach churn and he feel sick.

The only good part about not being able to sleep very well that he could appreciate how awesome it was to have a cute girl sleep on him. Desmond had always enjoyed snuggling with his girlfriends or them feeling comfortable enough to just sleep on him. This time wasn't any different. Every time he half woke from his half sleep he'd feel Lucy sleeping against him and would just enjoy it until his exhausted body and mind left him to doze again until the previous night's events once again woke him.

The car woke officially with the sun as it peeked over the tops of trees, assaulting their eyes behind eyelids. "Can we stop?" Lucy asked sleepily.

"No," Altair said from the driver's seat.

"I am not peeing in a cup," she groaned. Altair turned and looked at her, "You can glare at me all you want. I'm not. Pull over," Altair scowled at her but Desmond grinned as the car decelerated.

"Why'd you stop?" Ezio asked as the jeep stopped behind them and everyone got out of the car. Lucy grabbed a roll of toilet paper and vanished into the woods. "Oh," Ezio said.

"Thank god," Hawk groaned.

"Why?" Altair asked.

"I didn't want to piss in a cup!" Hawk left them and went to do his business. Altair scowled at them all and folded his arms, looking away. It turned into a bathroom and breakfast break which Desmond was honestly thankful for.

\---

The trunk of the SUV had been popped open and Desmond, Jake and Lucy were sitting in the back bed of the car eating their cold breakfast. Everyone seemed to not want to talk about the elephant in the figurative room. Desmond didn't want to bring it up. He was still on some thin ice for yelling at Altair back in Cordoba, the ancient didn't get over shit quickly. Honestly the only person who could safely bring up the topic and not get glared at or their head bitten off was Jake. Hawk would never ask, Ezio would get a glare, he and Lucy would get their heads bitten off. But Jake could ask. Which just meant one thing.

Desmond was sending Jake telepathic messages to ask Altair about Cain so hard he nearly gave himself a headache. But Jake's head was so thick he doubted anything less than gamma rays or something could penetrate them.

They'd packed everything up to get going again when some of Desmond's brain waves seemed to get through. "Altair," Jake said as Altair handed him something to put in their bags in the back.

"What?" Altair asked though seemed wary.

"Who's Cain?" and Ezio and Hawk went silent from their conversation and everyone turned and looked at Altair. Altair couldn't get out of this. Cain had threatened them, threatened Desmond, in front of all of them. With a groan Altair rubbed the back of his neck and cursed. "Well?" Jake prodded.

"Bad news," Altair said.

"Well I could see that. I only have two eyes and a fully functioning frontal lobe. You ran the asshole over with an SUV. Who is he? How does he know you, and you him? Why the hell did he call you Abel?"

Altair sighed as if in defeat, "Okay," he said it kinda quietly. "Cain... is my dirty little secret you could say."

"Who is he?"

"He was my friend," Altair confessed and looked at them all, looking guilt ridden. "My oldest friend. No offense Jake, but he was a better one than you," clearly he was talking to the Malik in Jake.

"Was?" Hawk pipped up.

“Yeah. Was.”

“What is he?” Hawk asked.

“Immortal.”

There was a heavy, pregnant, silence which Desmond broke before he went crazy: “I thought you were the only immortals."

“We are,” Altair said and went to sit on the hood of the jeep. He lay his forearms across his knees, crossing them between his legs. “There have been fake ones over the centuries, people who use proeathan artifacts to extend their lives, but they always can be killed. They're like Clay, they’re immortal, as long as something doesn’t kill them. Us four,” he motioned to Ezio, Hawk, and Jake, “are true immortals.”

“And Cain?” Ezio asked.

“He is also,” and Altair said it like it was something heavy he had to hold up. “He’s older than me.”

"What? But I thought you were the oldest thing on the planet other than trees," Desmond said.

"Second oldest," Altair said dryly.

"But who is Cain?" Ezio asked.

"A long story," Altair said.

Hawk suddenly held Altair's keys up, "We aren't going anywhere until we hear it," he said.

Altair hung his head and rubbed his gloved hands together. Lucy and Jake both scooted close to Desmond to help fight the cold of late November at this latitude. Altair said nothing for a few moments, but it wasn't a silence to be silent, this was a silence to remember. He sighed again and then looked up, but wasn't looking at any of them. Instead he had a thousand yard stare, looking off into the distance as he spoke. “He was born in Spain shortly after the fall of the Roman Empire. I don’t know what his real name is, I don’t think he even does anymore, when I met him he was Cain," he spoke nearly monotone, more like how he'd first spoken when Desmond had first met him inside the Animus. "I don’t know when or how he first Woke or how he got his hands on an Apple or a Piece that would put him Under. He’s a mercenary, without a master other than himself. He is not one of us, but he isn’t a Templar either. He is his own dog.

“I met him in Cairo, in the late eleventh century after the fall of Masyaf. I… was on a bender,” he confessed and Desmond winced in sympathy. “Cain found me in a ditch after someone had stabbed me over something stupid. I insulted his mother… or something,” he waved it off. “Either way, I died, I got back up pretty quick though, less than a day, Cain saw me die and then Wake. He quite literally helped me up from the ditch.

“Cain knew, about this. He understood this gift we have,” Desmond had never heard Altair call his immortality a gift, not once. It was always a curse. “We couldn’t die, we couldn’t get sick. We were demi gods who did not obey the natural laws of God. Mortal men lived their lives only to die, we lived ours to..." he trained off, like he forgot why he lived. Then his amber eyes flicked to Desmond, focusing for the first time since he started to speak, "To find our way and forge a path. He was like a brother to me. He helped me. Got me to stop drinking, got me back on my feet and put a sword in my hand again, gave me a purpose, that I hadn’t had since Maria died,” his eyes were very far away again and Desmond knew he was remembering twelfth century Cairo.

“I became a mercenary, because I was good at it, because I wanted a purpose again. We worked together. We were good at it. Cain wanted me to show him the Apple, though he himself didn't want to use it. He was afraid it would undo whatever had been done to him. He encouraged me to use it though and to be what I was.

He was the only one like me, and he told me everything I needed to know. I was... well, a stupid kid to him. Before finding myself in the bottom of a cup I tried to kill myself unumeral amount of times. Cain got me over that. He taught me how to live with being immortal and that it wasn't the curse I thought it was. He’s why it’s called going Under, and why it’s Waking instead of just dying. He thought it was a gift, a miracle from God.

“I learned to use the Apple. Very well I might add. Because of him I know more about it then anyone, and most other Pieces of Eden as well. Cain taught me not fear what I was, what I could do, why I could do things others couldn’t, why I was different. I saw into the future, often, because the me now, in this present, was the me I wanted to be then, but wasn’t. I saw Ezio through the Apple and all the choices he’d make that could lead him here. I saw all the ways he would destroy himself, and all the ways he’d be happy,” he looked at Ezio apologetically, crushed by what he knew. “I saw Hawk too, or it could have been Hawk, there was another, they called him Connor. He could have been here instead, but he’s not.

“I saw the end of the war and the end of the world, which I’ll be able to witness first hand in a few hundred millennia. But this... this I didn't see,” Altair confessed and ran both his hands over the back of his now slightly bowed head. Everyone was totally silent, listening to the ancient confess sins and tales he’d never told anyone.

“I also saw what I was going to do to Cain,” he said barely above a whisper. “We would fight, and I would win. I would destroy him. I couldn’t do that, he was my only friend in a big empty world of death, so I put my Apple out of the hands of humanity, on the moon, and in the sixteenth century, we parted ways,” he looked up at Ezio and his face was tired and sorry and ridden with guilt. “I watched you grow up,” he told Ezio. “I watched your family die,” Ezio started to tremble, an old fury suddenly given new life as a spark of knowing that Altair had just stood by and let his family be murdered. “And I watched how you made an amazingly good effort at trying to get yourself killed. I gave you a choice in that vatican, when you lay there dying.”

“Did you know I would say yes?” Ezio asked tightly.

“No," Altair shook his head, "The future is not constant. Sometimes you said yes. Other times you told me no. But you said yes to me. So I gave you what you needed. But you’re a stubborn idiot, and don’t listen when people tell you things. I wanted to be to you what Cain was to me but you didn’t listen to me and I got to watch you suffer for it. You listened once you saw I was right, but I honestly did want to save you that sort of pain,” he told Ezio and it was obviously nothing Altair had ever told him before from the look on Ezio's face.

“But back to Cain," he looked away from Ezio. "I saw him a few times after we grew apart. We’d meet in a battlefield, or at some job. He was his own master, and I had become my own. Sometimes we worked together, but I always knew one day he’d push me too far. I knew when I might have to do it. I knew how I'd do it, though I didn't want to," he sighed, the burden of the tale seemed to make Altair small, crushing him. Desmond didn't know Altair had so many words in him, had the capacity to tell such a story. “Then came the industrial revolution, London. Eighteen-eighty-eight, barely a hundred years since we met Hawk,” he looked at Hawk. “Remember when I left for a long time?”

“Yeah,” Hawk said, “You said you needed to go home, to see Masyaf.”

“I didn’t. I’d heard a rumor, from the Order actually, about someone in London killing whores. Not for them, and not for the Templars. Normally I kept tabs on people who go bat shit insane or who could potentially be using a Piece of Eden. I went and checked it out, usually the Scotland Yard was good about this sort of stuff. But… not this. This was a professional, even if it didn’t always look it.

“I’m sure you know, they got letters. Hundreds of them. I wormed my way into the Yard as a constable, easy enough really. I got to see a lot of those letters as they sent us hunting him. Then there were some that I recognized.

“The most well known one is the ‘From Hell’ letter, sent to George Lusk, a Templar actually. I thought for sure it was the Order. Or someone going around thinking they were an Assassin,” he rolled his eyes, “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he sighed. “But there were other letters too. A lot mentioned a boss, but one, and these are mainly lost now so just take my word for it said,

“‘Abel,

“Remember when we used to play together?

“Your dearest brother.’

“For obvious reasons it was discredited, as it was unlike the others in such a way that it couldn’t have been the same person. But, I knew it was Cain, because when we were friends, before we parted, he called me Abel. He knew I was there. He wanted me to know he knew. He was reaching out to me.

“We met at one point, before I caught him. That was when I knew I’d do what I’d seen in the Apple those centuries ago even though I promised myself I never would; no matter what Cain did. But when I saw what he did I knew I would destroy him like I'd seen. I caught him a few days later, and killed him. I cut out his heart, and his liver, his lungs, his stomach: I disemboweled him. I smashed his skull and broke every bone in his body, to keep him Under until I was ready for him to Wake, because I knew he would, as we can grow limbs back, organs, he thought even grow heads back. I didn’t go that far though. What if he grew back from both ends? Body from the head and head from the body?

“There’s something like Venus’ vault, in Germany. Think of it more like a jail, or at least to humans it is. It took me a few weeks to open it, as I had to get supplies, but then it was opened and I put him in it, and closed it up after me. Afterwards I effectively broke the lock, as humans don’t have the technology to break proeathan material, and I figured they’d never be back. And he’s been rotting in there for more than a hundred and twenty five years, starving to death and Waking repeatedly in an endless cycle.”

“Why?” Lucy was the one who asked. Her voice sounded frail and thin.“Why would you do that?”

“Because before I captured him he told me he was bored. Bored. Killing was a thrill now, a fix. He didn’t get off on it, he just found it fun. He said to come with him, if I didn’t he was going to kill me until I agreed, and I know Cain, he would have made it very painful. The only way to stop him was to lock him up. So I did.”

“And now?” Ezio asked.

“Now it seems he’s working for the proeathans, but he’s been out of the game for a while— though that doesn’t mean much,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his scalp again. “They broke him out, but I know he hates having a leash I’m sure the proeathans have him on. He said he’s coming for Desmond,” now Altair turned his amber eyes on him, “we need to be very. Careful. From now on. Especially you,” he pointed at Desmond.

“So what, this Cain is their ace?” Hawk asked.

“Maybe,” Altair said, “Or one of them.”

“O-One of them?” Ezio demanded, “What the hell does that mean?”

“He told us,” Lucy said, they all looked at her, “Cain told us. He just wants Desmond, but—

“There’s someone coming for her,” Altair motioned to Lucy and Desmond refrained from wrapping a protective arm around her. “Cain claims he has morals, meaning he’s back to the way he was. He doesn’t kill or take jobs against women. He’s Spanish, was raised by his mother probably. It’s why his ‘Jack’ was so out of character, why I reacted so strongly to it and locked him up. It wasn't the Cain I knew. It was a monster.”

“Cain said they’re worse,” Desmond said. “Who’s worse then Cain?”

“I don’t know,” Altair admitted. “Me? Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe your clone, she told us he hates her. It’d be a nice psychological tactics against you at any rate.”

“They wouldn’t send him for me,” Lucy said softly, “He’s valuable to them in other ways. They wouldn’t risk you killing him, and you would, because he isn’t the best fighter. He’s been in something like the Animus since he was small.”

“Then who?” Hawk asked.

“No idea,” Altair said.

“You said you’re worse,” Desmond said.

“Yeah and if I actually wanted to kill the synth, trust me, she’d be dead already and none of you would be able to stop me if I wanted to,” Altair said in a sort of helpless manner like he couldn’t help but just remind them the truth. Lucy squeezed him arm nervously. “I have no reason to though, and no reason to help the proeathans. Whoever is coming for her is under orders, and if they’re anything like Cain, and I bet they are, the won’t stop until she’s either dead, or they bring her back to their bosses.”

“So comforting,” Desmond said blandly.

“Life’s a bitch isn’t it?" he slid off the hood of the jeep, "Now let's get going, we're burning daylight and it's cold as fuck out here," and he grabbed the keys from Hawk and headed for the driver's seat of the SUV.

 


	43. Realm of the Elephant Bird

The site of the Grand Temple still seemed occupied when they arrived. The fence the Assassins had built was still there as was the small town of quickly erected building, but it was all covered in snow, the tents and assembled shacks now long abandoned. As they'd gotten closer to the Temple it had started to snow, hard, and Desmond was glad they weren't in ATVs, it would have been miserable. The off road vehicles didn't notice the snow and consumed the miles to the Temple. Altair used the SUV to break down the fence to the compound and they parked as close to the entrance as they possibly could.

Jake turned on a flashlight as they entered the long cave, for him and Lucy. The cave was as Desmond remembered it, rough cut till the end where a new crater had been blown in the rock and then dug into deeper. Desmond didn't ask where it had come from, he bet the Assassins had kept looking for the Temple even once he was gone.

"So, here we are," Ezio said though he was clearly shivering. It was cold outside and the near blizzard outside wasn't helping.

"Don't touch anything," Altair added, he seemed to be the only one unaffected by the cold but Desmond didn't know if he was or if he was just being stubborn about it and not letting it show.

"I spy, with my little eye," Desmond went into Eagle Vision. Last time he'd seen the entrance just through that, so he assumed he could again. "Something," he said slowly as he looked around, "green," and he started down into the crater. There was his many armed star, the same one from last time.

"Found it already?" Ezio asked.

"You can see it in Eagle Vision," Desmond said over his shoulder, now at the bottom of the slope. He heard the others coming after him.

"We can't," Hawk said.

"Well, it's right here," Desmond pointed to it but didn't touch it. "Last time I pressed my hand to it and it transported me to the Grand Temple and Pluto."

"You think it could transport all of us?" Altair asked.

"I have no idea. Touch it, see if it does something," and pressed Altair's hand to the star. Nothing.

"Seems it needs the magic Miles, touch," Jake teased.

There was a bit of silence, "What if it only does me?" Desmond asked. "I mean I'm supposed to find the damn thing and crack it open. It'd leave you out here again," and clearly that didn't sit well with Altair, or any of them honestly. He looked at Lucy, "Pluto is rogue right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "the proeathans haven't had contact with Pluto in nearly four years. He wasn't happy when they abandoned him and then came back and expected him to behave for them since Venus was lost to them."

"Good to know. So... I guess everyone hold hands and I'll touch the star and see what happens," and Altair instantly grabbed his arm. Lucy held his hand and Ezio hers, Hawk and Jake made a chain off Altair. "Well, see you there," and Desmond touched the star.

Desmond emerged in a dark corridor lit only by the softly glowing walls around him. He looked around and swore. He was alone. The transport only worked for him. Of course it would. He knew what he could do now. He walked quickly down the hall to the huge room with the pillar. "Pluto," he yelled, knowing he was there, knowing he was listening, "wake up!" The house lights brightened and the column in the center started to pulse to the beat of his heart. He walked right up to it and was surprised to see his Apple still sitting in the slot. He didn't take it though. "Pluto," he called again.

The hologram appeared behind him, making him turn. The difference between the Pluto he'd seen five years ago and now was jarring. The Pluto now was not the one he'd seen five years ago, his pale hair was cut close to his head and he wore clothes that looked more like modern battle armor instead of robes and he didn't float or wear a headdress. He wore no shoes and stood on the floor. He looked like god of war or a being made to kill, even his yellow eyes hard and dangerous. Parts of him seemed to glitch out slightly from his full form like stray sequences in the Animus when Desmond had been hit. "Hello Desmond," Pluto said, his voice was the only part of him that was the same.

"Pluto," Desmond sounded surprised, "what happened to you?"

He snorted in contempt, "Before my people tried, and apparently failed, to eradicate the memories of my past life I was a general. I led the march against Eve and her army before the Toba incident that sent our way of life into a tailspin."

"I have to say," Desmond said, "I like you better like this. You don't look like such a jackass. Now, I need you to bring the others here," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"But why should I?" Pluto said.

Desmond scowled at him and then looked at the Apple in the column. It had activated this Temple five years ago like a key and was still there after all this time. Why didn't someone take it out? Clearly it was needed. "Or I'll shut you down," Desmond said and put his hand over the Apple to take it out. "Now we can do this the easy way, or you can fight me. And I can tell you, I am so fucking sick of this bullshit you started so don't think I'm going to just roll over and do what you want. You can't control me and you know it," like Desmond needed to remind Pluto of his last words, his threat.

After a moment Pluto smiled, "This is why I like you Desmond," he said, "You remind me of me," the entire column turned gold for a moment. "They're here, even the synth."

"Good," Desmond smiled a little. "So Pluto, how's tricks?"

"I've been waiting. Biding my time."

"For?"

"For you to get it together," Pluto said, "Then I got the most spectacular message from my sister about you. I was so surprised I nearly had to reboot," and Desmond laughed a little. Motion caught at the edge of his sight and the others appeared from the same hallway he had. "Over here," he waved and they came up to him. "This is Pluto, Pluto-

"I know who they are," Pluto said and named them each off, "The synth, the two men, the second son, the empty man, the fury," he seemed pleased by this and turned to Desmond, "and the messiah. How fitting honestly that you would find them all."

"You know why we're here?" though he had about a million questions for Pluto.

"Yes," Pluto nodded, "All of you follow me. No need to stand in my power room. You should eat, you're all dehydrated and under acceptable levels for some of your important vitamins," and he walked away without a word.

"Was he like this before?" Altair asked, "My impression of him from you was different."

"He's changed," Desmond agreed but followed after the tall hologram. "He wasn't like this last time."

A section of the wall opened and Pluto walked through it, they followed. This hall was made of gleaming white material. Similar to the black material, but white. "Finally a change of decor," Jake said.

"You humans have only ever seen our power or maintenance portions of our buildings," Pluto said, "that or they were created for you to find and try to get through." Pluto stopped at the end of the hall and the bottom of a huge tube. When they'd all entered the tube a barrier of light appeared around them and they started to rise.

"Where is this place?" Desmond asked Pluto.

"Two miles below the surface of the earth," Pluto said.

"It isn't hot here," Hawk said, surprised.

Pluto looked at him, unimpressed, "We created machines that could induce mind control and heal the near dead, creating a shield against the Earth's heat was easy."

"Fair enough," Hawk said though seemed to now take it as a challenge to get Pluto to be something other than annoyed by them.

Then the lift stopped and Pluto stepped off. The others followed him and here the walls weren't so blinding and looked rather normal, not just clean cut glass. "Here," Pluto said at the entrance of a large, lush, slightly overgrown, garden, "You'll find plenty to entertain yourself here. You," he looked at Desmond, "come with me."

"Where are you taking him?" Altair asked.

"To put to rest what's going on with his skin," Pluto said, "unless you have a problem with that Abel?"

Altair narrowed his eyes at him, "Don't call me that you creepy sonuvabitch," he growled.

Pluto didn't even look ruffled, "Come, Desmond. Your friends will be safe here, I promise no harm will come to them. There is a terminal on the wall that will supply you with anything you desire," he said and started to walk away, clearly expecting Desmond to follow. Desmond looked at the others, Altair still looked annoyed, the others a bit concerned, but then he turned and followed after Pluto.

 


	44. Better Than Wings

Pluto led Desmond into a room that looked like a science facility. Desmond felt uneasy as he walked into it and every fiber of his being was telling him to run. Run and don't look back. "We brought you here after I knocked you out," Pluto said and now Desmond knew why he felt so ill at ease here. This was where he'd started his life in that fucking pod for five years. This was the start of his clone and probably the first step to creating Lucy. He felt dirty all over being in this room.

"Why did you bring me here?" Desmond swallowed.

"To run some tests," and Desmond did not like the sound of that. "Don't worry, they're non invasive."

"Well that's something," Desmond still was on edge.

"Right here," Pluto beckoned Desmond over to a sliding door. It opened when Desmond got close, Pluto nodded and Desmond went in, slowly. The doors closed behind him and the only good part, if you could call it a good part, was that Pluto was with him. "Remove your clothing," he said.

"Why do I have to get naked for all of you?" Desmond bitched even as he unzipped his coat.

Pluto chuckled, "This will be the last time. Morpheus and Hera needed to see it with their eyes, and Hera informed me you have some... interesting marks."

"Last time I showed you you said they were simply cosmetic," Desmond said, taking off his sweater.

"They are," Pluto said. "Now, I want you to tell me any sort of complications you've had since your coma in the Animus and the first time you came here."

"Like what?" Desmond asked as he finally stood shirtless in the chamber.

"Strange occurrences, dreams, pain, bodily harm. Normally the doctors who worked on you would just have taken scans of your brain to find these things out but your mind is strange. It is full of holes and overlapping segments from your prolonged exposure to dangerous memory rewriting technology. So, are there?"

"Uh... well I had some dreams with Venus-

"Normal REM interfacing; unimportant," Pluto brushed it off.

He thought, "Before I got this," he held up his left arm where the glyphs were starting to appear on his fingertips again, "me and everyone got a brain implant."

"What sort?"

"Like a mini microphone microchip," Desmond said, "it allows us to communicate without exterior means since it's in our heads. I guess."

"You guess?"

"I don't have one," Desmond frowned. "The others do, Lucy and I don't. Something went wrong, I'm not entirely sure what, but my body rejected the chip. I had some intense pain and they had to knock me out to remove it. When I woke up I was a walking, talking, glow stick."

"And this happened after your coma?"

"Yes. I figured my clone would be able to see it, even with my head so full of holes. Trauma usually carries over extra in memories doesn't it?"

"Yes," Pluto agreed slowly, "But there is something... holding your fractured mind together and covering it."

"Isn't that what you used my clone for?" Desmond asked, "To see what the hell was up with my head?"

"Yes but after your coma is when the block appears and it is increasingly difficult to relive those specific memories without killing the clone."

Desmond paused, "Do I have more than one?" he asked.

"They went through sixteen in the first two years trying to get them to sync with your destroyed memories. It was nearly impossible. All sixteen suffered either irreversible brain damage or simply went brain dead from the strain of... I believe you idiots call it 'Bleeding Effect'."

"So this current one is the seventeenth one?" Desmond asked.

"He is. Most projects don't go beyond the seventeenth incarnation. Too unlucky. To him he's DC-18, he doesn't know he's the seventeenth."

"Great," Desmond sighed and stepped out of his boots. "If there's one thing I love, it's not knowing shit. Since he is me, I guarantee he's found out somehow that he's the seventeenth, and last, clone. Does Lucy know there were more?"

"I don't believe so," Pluto said. "It took Hera several years to properly sequence her. By then there was only one clone, DC-18."

"Great," he said sarcastically and unzipped his pants. "Do I have to get totally naked?" he asked.

"Yes," Pluto said.

"Uuuuhg," he groaned. "I haven't even gotten naked this often with Lucy," he complained, mostly to himself. But he got out his under armour, his underwear and his socks. It was warm in the room and Desmond tried really hard not to feel awkward. He still covered his junk though.

Another door opened, "Through there," Pluto said and Desmond entered a smaller pod-like room. He instantly felt claustrophobic. "Now, move your hands and we'll begin," and Pluto blinked out of sight.

"What are you going to do?" Desmond asked and did move his hands, feeling a bit better since Pluto wasn't right there. His answer was a strange, semi clear, fluid that started to rise up from the floor. It was warm to the touch and he was thrown instantly back into the pod barely a year ago. His heart rate started to rocket.

"Calm down," Pluto said, rather gently. "I'm on your side."

"Yeah? Why?" Desmond stammered as the fluid started to rise quickly, it was already halfway to his knees.

"Because, Desmond, like you I don't like being used."

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do though? You're an AI. Bound to serve."

"Me and my siblings were coded for a specific purpose yes. We cannot break our core programming without something drastic to do so. My purpose was to be the hub of our new society. I would hold you and the other bases would be waken from here. It didn't go to plan," the fluid was up to his knees now. "Venus was rogue and she convinced others to as well. There was also the matter of your little posse out there, doing their level best to annoy us. They were searching for you. Without the others and now with them searching specifically for the Grand Temple I was abandoned. I had no purpose anymore. They took it from me."

Desmond frowned, "That sucks man, sorry," though he didn't know how sorry he should be since Pluto was going to hold him captive. The fluid was at his groin and still rising. Where the fluid touched the glyphs started to show and made the fluid glow teal.

"When the entirety of our civilization left my halls I could do nothing. Without Mercury communications between AIs was difficult. I still did what I could though, to follow my programming even though I could do nothing. Eventually I started searching my data banks, mainly out of boredom. There I found locked files that I forced open. In them I found memories of my past life," he sounded so sad when he said it.

"You okay Pluto?" Desmond had to ask when Pluto was silent for a solid minute, the fluid was now up around his chest. It was gel-like and hard to move in.

"I gave up my life to serve my people, Desmond," Pluto said. "I led nations’ combined armies against you humans in the first war, the first time the proeathans had something other to fight than each other. Your stupid rebellion united a planet. The Toba incident destroyed so much, wiped entire countries off the map in moments. It killed everyone I'd ever known and left our species broken and fractured once more. We killed each other just as readily as we killed you after Toba, for survival of our species. That is why I was sacrificed along with fifteen others, to give our life and our DNA, for  the protection of our people."

"Sacrifice?" the fluid had stopped rising at Desmond's neck. "I thought you chose this."

Pluto barked a laugh. "Chose a life of indentured servitude for all time? No. I did not choose this. The sixteen of us were selected for what we did, our abilities and were sacrificed in the name of our gods to become living electronics to serve them. I found this out in my data banks along with my old self. It broke my programming and core functions."

"Which means? Also you doing the thing you need to be doing? This isn't the most comfortable thing in the world."

"I am," Pluto said, "it will take some time. I'm doing a full body and deep body scan."

"Great," though Desmond didn't know if it was or not. "You have your memories of when you were alive back?" he prodded, interested despite himself/

"Yes. Venus and I are the only ones who have. We're truly rogue, it's why Morpheus and Hera both have rules."

"But you don't," Desmond said.

"The only rules I have now are my own."

"Okay. So this is good for us right?"

"Yes," Pluto said.

"Can I ask... what was your name before this?"

"I don't know," Pluto said. "They were careful in making sure I could never remember."

"Shit... sorry," he said.

"Now we're here."

"Yeah," Desmond said, "you know what's up with my skin?"

"No."

"But-

"You were sent here to create a map," Pluto said, "that is what I am doing," and Desmond looked down, his chin going into the gel. His entire body was covered in the glyphs. "I am not a map reader like Morpheus is, or even Hera. Now," something dropped over Desmond's head and hung suspended over the fluid, "put that on. I'm going to raise the solution over your head."

"Why didn't you just before?" Desmond asked, his arms moved slow as he reached up for the face mask.

"I don't know," Pluto said, "Maybe I just wanted someone to hear my story. For you to. So you understand a bit more."

"Okay," Desmond said, his voice muffled by the mask, "thanks."

"Close your eyes. I've been told the solution will create a mild burning sensation to exposed areas," and Desmond dutifully closed his eyes. The fluid rose, over his chin and cheeks and hair. Desmond held still and breathed calmly through the mask. It lasted only a few moments before he felt the fluid start to recede back down. "You may remove the mask," Pluto said once the fluid was below Desmond's head.

"Now what?" Desmond asked as the last of the fluid sank into the floor.

"Cleansing," and Pluto seemed almost amused as a high power shower came on, surprising Desmond with a yelp. Which no doubt Pluto had done on purpose. Desmond was glad for the shower though and washed thoroughly, though without soap. Usually he didn't wash with soap anyway, it took more water to wash off soap. But the pressure of the water took care of the grime on his body from the gel and a new life without modern convenience.

The shower cut off once he was clean and Desmond stepped out into the previous room. His clothes were gone. "Very funny Pluto, where are my clothes?" he asked.

"One moment," and a red laser fanned out around him and took a scan of his body like they did n scifi movies, finding the contours of his form. "To your left," Pluto said and a drawer pulled out on it's own.

"What is this?" Desmond picked up the garment.

"Thermal coat, it's a top layer."

"It's so thin," and he went through the rest of the clothes and thankfully found a pair of underwear he put on first.

"It keeps you warm but allows for great mobility, unlike human winter clothes. Humans don't yet have the technology to produce thin, yet warm, garments. Get dressed, the others are getting anxious you've been gone so long. They don't trust me."

"To be fair I don't really trust you either. I mean, you are the reason we're in this mess."

"I did only what I could," Pluto sounded... hurt. "I could not control myself as I can now."

"Still, you did do it," and Desmond pulled on the clothes, pulling on the thin jacket over everything. He turned around to look at himself as best he could before putting on the shoes to finish up. Pluto said nothing while he dressed. "But really where are my other clothes?"

"If you really want them back I'm having them washed, disinfected, and mended. But I think you'll find these more to your liking," and the door to the science room opened, Pluto was standing there waiting for him.

"So what now?"

"I will compile the data on your markings. You will be leaving soon though."

"I will?" Desmond asked as he followed after Pluto. "Also will they come back?"

"Yes," Pluto said to both questions. "I stabilized the proteins in your body that causes them to change position. They will reappear slowly as before but won't change location or orientation, though they may fade in and out."

"Okay," Desmond followed him back to the garden room. "I'm back," he announced.

"There you are," Altair said, coming up to him, worry written in every line of his body. "What are you wearing?" he looked Desmond up and down.

"That is literally one step away from a scifi jumpsuit!" Jake suddenly cried and came over to Desmond to pick at his sleeve, "It's super soft, can I get one?"

"Uh... I dunno," he looked at Pluto. "I guess... I mean I assume you can."

"I will outfit you with whatever you need," Pluto said passionlessly.

"So what's the story?" Altair asked.

"Well, Pluto got what he needed, and I guess... we're going somewhere?"

"More?" Jake sighed. "Weren't you the one who said you were tired with fetch quests?"

"Trust me, I am," Desmond said.

"This is important," Pluto said. "I can't send the information to Morpheus without an important component."

"Which is?" Hawk asked.

"Mercury. He's our communications expert and a vital link for the entire group of us to work correctly with one another. Without him we AI cannot communicate without a great deal of effort and thus makes it difficult for proeathans to communicate long distances. Most of the retaking of Earth was done in radio silence to our leaders in Apollo. Our entire communications network is bottlenecked to about a hundred miles around each base without Mercury," Pluto said.

"Okay," Desmond said, "So where is Mercury?"

"The Mexican peninsula."

Desmond swore, "You want us to go to Mexico? You realize there is a blizzard outside and it's winter right? How do you expect us to get to Mexico? Drive?"

"Of course not," Pluto said, "I would never ask you to take something that technologically backwards," he seemed insulted by the thought. "You'll be flying there, in something much better than a plane."

 


	45. Better Be a Numia

Desmond had to admit, when he saw the machine he was one part impressed and one part horrified. Pluto had taken them to a room and then raised the floor up to them, revealing the great machine. It was shaped vaguely like a bird in flight, wings bent back at a forty-five degree angle. It wasn’t a helicopter and it wasn’t a plane, in fact it looked like it had been poured into place, every line curved and sweeping without a single seam. It was the flying machine Desmond had seen gun down those poor people back in Alexandria. He felt sick looking at it.

“What is this?” Hawk asked.

“Dua class Numia,” they were all surprised when Lucy spoke, she was staring at it in surprise, then she turned to Pluto, “Where did you get one? I thought only Jupiter held craft.”

“I am a central hub,” Pluto said, “I do everything the other fifteen can do, just not to as great a capacity as their specialties. This includes my storage. I have twenty cau through nalok class Numia in my hanger.”

“Hold up,” Hawk said before they could get too along. “That didn’t answer my question. What is this? What the hell is a Numia?”

“A numia was a large bird of prey during our time on this planet, it has since gone extinct. We named our flying machines after it. A dua class Numia is the civilian transport model. I’m sure you’ve seen the nalok class Numia around. They’re the ones fitted with the machine guns.”

“Yeah, rings a bell,” Desmond said dryly and swallowed. “So this one doesn’t have machine guns?”

“No,” Pluto said.

“So you want us to fly this thing to Mexico?” Jake asked.

“Yes.”

“How the hell are we going to do that? You going to teach one of us how to fly it? Cause I highly doubt any of us know.”

“Well,” Pluto said and turned to look at Lucy, folding his arms, “I wouldn’t say none of you.”

“You know how to fly this thing?” Ezio asked her.

“Sort of,” Lucy said awkwardly, “I ran simulations while kept in Juno. They wanted me to be combat ready, a-as part of their plan,” she said. “So yes I suppose I could fly a Numia in real life,” she swallowed.

“It requires two co-pilots,” Pluto said, “Who would like to volunteer to be the synth’s seconds?” no one volunteered. “Not even you empty man?” Pluto asked Hawk.

“I don’t like flying, or high things in general.”

“Dua class are low flying Numia,” Lucy said quickly, “they’re meant to skim the ground, which is why you’re giving us this one, right?” she asked Pluto.

“They’re expecting you to fly,” Pluto said, “Like you did to get here. So you will, but not where they’ll be looking.”

“Like… how close to the ground we talking?” Hawk asked.

“Maybe a hundred feet,” Lucy said, “dua class aren’t meant for high flying.”

Hawk seemed torn, clearly yes, he did want to learn how to fly the awesome proeathan Numia, but on the other hand… flying. “I’ll give it a try Blondie, cause I like ya,” he winked at her and for some reason that annoyed Desmond.

“I will too,” Jake said. “Mainly for the hilarity of having to watch Hawk restrain himself from the fact that he gets to fly a proeathan ship,” and he laughed.

“Good,” Pluto said. He was looking at Lucy again, “There is a simulator through that door,” he said and a panel slid open. “You should leave tomorrow if possible.”

“Won’t they need more training than that?” Ezio asked.

“Numia are very straight forward for co-pilots. They mainly are in charge of keeping track of gauges and equipment, the real flying is handled by the pilot. It shouldn’t take long for Jake and Hawk to learn,” he said.

“Okay cool,” Jake grinned widely. “Better than just sitting around with our thumbs up our asses.”

“Not that you don’t like that,” Desmond muttered to himself.

“Shut it Des!” Jake yelled at him, apparently he hadn’t been quiet enough and he laughed when Jake punched his shoulder.

—

Pluto gave them all a real place to sleep and real food and hot showers and new clothes and Desmond had been totally into all of it. Yeah he’d slept in a bed since he’d been rescued, but not in a bed that he didn’t feel cold in, or one that was comfortable. The beds in Pluto were amazingly soft and the food was amazingly prepared and the clothes were comfortable and the showers hot. Pluto himself seemed pleased to have a purpose in helping them, no matter how brief, and got them whatever they wanted. All they had to do was ask.

Desmond was sitting on his bed, he was tired again. He hadn’t had the best night sleep the last few nights either, and that was coupled with the fact that while Hawk and Jake ran simulations with Lucy Ezio and Altair took him to a training area and attempted to beat him black and blue. There was also gun shooting. Desmond was good at all of it. He was even better than a week ago and to his amazement was able to keep up with Ezio and Altair at once. Usually he could keep up with one during a fight, adding two made it hard for Desmond to keep track of so many hands and legs.  Altair had even commented on his speed.

He just wanted to sleep now, he felt all worn out like overcooked spaghetti and everyone else said they were going to go to bed early to get an early start, so he was surprised when someone knocked on his door. He got up, his knees protesting, and answered the door. His eyes widened with interest when Lucy stood in his doorway. She was freshly showered and her blonde hair was still a bit damp around her shoulders. “Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” his mouth said, his brain felt totally disconnected from his body right now.

“Can I come in?” she asked him.

“Yeah, sure,” he let her in and closed the door after her. “What’s up?” She turned around and looked at him and opened her mouth, then closed it. “Something wrong?” he asked her.

“Do you want to sleep together?” she asked him. Desmond blinked at her, surprised by her question. They’d had sex once, just once, and when he could he stole kisses, greedily savoring the taste of her lips. Looking back on it it hadn’t been the greatest night ever, not that it had been bad, it’d just been kinda rushed. Cordoba and a dirty bed wasn’t somewhere you could romance a girl or draw it out, enjoy it.

She just looked up at him, waiting for an answer, “Not that I wouldn’t love to,” he said sincerely, because he wouldn’t mind again, a second time when they were both fresh and clean and the bed was soft and didn’t squeak, “but I am exhausted. I honestly don’t think I could get it up if I tried, which is a travesty cause you look really fucking hot in those pants,” because yeah he might have looked at her butt a bit when she walked in.

“Oh,” she said, clearly she’d been thinking similarly to him about that night in Cordoba, not bad; but they could do better. She’d been so damn angry and confused that night and seemed unfocused or clumsy in her own body like she didn’t know what to do with herself other than she wanted to be with him with every fiber of her being.

“You can sleep here if you want,” he said.

“I can?”

“Sure,” he said and sat on his bed again and tugged off his shirt, pulling it off over the back of his head, he hated sleeping in clothes before everything went to shit and damn right he was going to take advantage of a perfectly climate controlled room by just sleeping in his underwear. Lucy came over to him and ran her hands across his shoulders, hesitantly at first before with a bit more boldness, he wrapped his arms around her waist and just looked up at her.

“You’re something else,” she said.

He smirked, “So I’ve been told.”

“I feel bad for Lucy prime,” she said.

He frowned in confusion, “Why?” he asked.

“Because,” she softly and leaned down, “I get to do this when she only wished she could,” and she kissed him. He tightened his grip on her and kissed her back before pulling her into bed. True to what he said though he was exhausted and while he could handle kissing that was about it. Once he was under the blanket he fell asleep quickly, his face buried in Lucy’s soft neck.

—

The inside of the Numia looked like how Desmond expected it to look. It was similar to a passenger plane with rows of seats on the sides and a central ailse. Up in front there was a cockpit and in the back there was what amounted to about a holding cell. “What’s up with that?” Desmond asked Pluto, the hologram was sitting in one of the seats, his long legs taking up all the room.

“It was where citizens could store their slaves if they wanted to bring them,” Pluto said with the air of nonchalance. Desmond stiffened a little at that. It was a ‘storage’ for humans. He felt instantly ill.

“Uh… right,” Desmond said slowly.

Pluto gave him a smile that was more mean than not and Desmond saw the general he’d been, the one who had ordered the death of thousands, if not millions, of his species during the first war. “Don’t worry Desmond; you can sit in the seats.”

“Where are Altair and Ezio?” Lucy appeared in the cockpit doorway, “We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes.”

“They’re coming,” Pluto said, “I might have given them some wrong directions,” he smirked. Lucy just sighed, rolled her eyes, and went back into the cockpit.

“Hey Pluto,” Desmond sat across the aisle from him, “can I ask what your siblings were before this?”

“I didn’t know them in my past life,” Pluto said with a shrug, “They came from other countries, or worked in other circles.”

“Do you know any of them?”

Pluto took two seconds to answer, “Venus, because she knows herself and managed to send me some correspondence before going silent again. Before she is what she is, was a hunter. She specialized in hunting down runaway slaves, using tools to alter her appearance to, basically, seduce them. Apparently she hated humans, especially since the war killed her husband.”

“But I thought she liked us,” Desmond said, confused.

“Now she does. She’s had a few thousand years to get over, plus she didn’t remember it anyway, not for a while before she, like me, grew bored and started looking through her data banks.”

“Huh. You sure she doesn’t have some crazy vendetta against my kind?”

“Far as I know,” Pluto shrugged, “Venus is someone with many faces, many layers-

“You mean a woman,” Desmond said so blandly it had to be a joke.

Pluto’s lips twitched but he didn’t laugh. “She’s as angry as me about what was done to us, against our will.”

“Hmm,” Desmond frowned to himself and looked forward towards the cockpit. “Pluto,” he said, not looking at him, “you said, the first time we met, that if I gave in I could get anything I wanted; that I’d be happy,” he looked at Pluto now, “were you lying?”

“No,” Pluto said simply, “It was in our best interest to appease you. Without you, obviously, there is no us.”

“What were you going to do?” he asked.

“Well-“

“You gave us wrong directions you binary boy,” Altair spat as Ezio and Altair walked into the cabin.

“Did I?” and now Pluto grinned in mild amusement.

“There you are,” Lucy had come back, “Sit down and buckle up, we’re leaving now,” she said.

Ezio frowned at her, “Bella,” he said, “Pluto made us lae-

“I don’t care why you’re late. Sit down, a storm is blowing in from the west and a Numia like this can’t do this sort of weather,” she said it authoritatively.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ezio said and sat. Desmond buckled in as the cabin door closed.

Desmond looked over at Pluto, “What do you want out of this Pluto?” he asked as he heard the engines start to whirl, nearly silent. “Hera wants to get back at her sister, Morpheus wants to see something new, what about you? What do you get?”

“Vengeance,” and Desmond knew all about that. He’d lived through Ezio’s need for revenge, his blind, all consuming fury at those who had wronged him and still sometimes flared up when he was angry. “I want those who wronged me to pay for what they did to me.”

“We’ll get ‘em,” Desmond said.

“I know,” the Numia started to rise, slowly, gently. “This is where I leave you, hero,” Pluto said.

“I’m not a hero,” Desmond said with a frown.

Pluto grinned, “No,” he agreed, “Not yet you’re not. Also, a word of advice, don’t touch anything,” and his form fell apart into long strings of light as the Numia suddenly punched it and they were on their way.


	46. Failure to Launch

Desmond’s legs ached when he stood up. He’d been doing so much damn sitting lately. The Numia was a bit faster than a helicopter, so while it made good time it wasn’t blindingly fast. One thing it did have going for it though was a fully functioning toilet. Other thing was that Desmond could stand up in it and stretch and not touch the ceiling, it was kinda nice to be in things made for tall people instead of everything always being almost too small for him. He’d been sitting most of the day and decided he wanted to go see how the others were doing. Altair was awake, Ezio was napping.

“Where you going?” Altair asked as Desmond walked down the aisle.

“Going to make sure Lucy hasn’t killed either of them,” Desmond said, only slightly sarcastic.

“She’d be doing me a favor then,” Altair said and Desmond chuckled and opened the cockpit door.

The cockpit was like something out of Star Trek. There were two levels of the flight deck, one about six inches lower than the other. On the top deck were Jake and Hawk, looking at screens and gauges and in general monitoring the Numia though they both had flight controls if required, though they were folded up in front of them, out of the way unless they needed them. On the lower deck Lucy was sitting, looking through the glass as the ground wizzed by under them. There were no windows in the Numia except here in the cockpit, which had a semi sphere of glass to give the pilot optimal view. She had two main controls, one for each hand and he couldn’t possibly begin to understand how she was flying the damn thing.

“Wow,” Desmond said as a way to announce himself. Jake and Hawk turned and looked, Lucy didn’t though, she kept looking straight.

“What are you doing in here?” Jake asked.

“Just came to check in on you guys, you know make sure you aren’t dead or anything.”

“Oh, well we aren’t, so no worries,” Jake said.

Desmond moved over to his station, “What’s all this stuff?” he asked, looking at the screens and gauges stupidly.

“I’m watching the engine,” Jake said, “it runs off Cubes, but cause it’s such a massive power output you have to watch them all the time and kinda bump them around so they don’t cause the engine to overheat. Hawk’s stabilizing the craft while Lucy flies, apparently I got the easy job since Numias are terribly unstable in the air.”

“How come?”

“Short wings,” Hawk said.

“Well you’re doing a good job, we’ve had a smooth ride,” Desmond said and grinned Hawk.

“Think it has more to do with Blondie’s flying ability than mine to keep us stable,” Hawk said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t bother her though, she nearly bit our heads off during simulations. Apparently it’s really hard to fly one of these things as a human,” Hawk twirled his finger by his head, “apparently humans don’t have enough sixth sense to properly use the damn thing.”

“Then I’ll stay right back here,” Desmond said and leaned against Jake’s terminal. “So where are we?”

“Somewhere over North Carolina,” Jake said, “We’ll have to stop for the night somewhere since we can’t go all night like the two old men in the back.”

“But we’ll be there tomorrow?” Desmond asked and pressed his hand on the terminal as he looked at some more of the gauges Jake was watching while he talked.

“Yeah, should be,” Jake said and then frowned. “Huh… that’s weird,” he said.

“What is?” though none of the gauges or notices made any sense to Desmond.

“Weird power fluctuations,” he pressed a few buttons.

“Jake,” Lucy called from the pilot seat, “where are the rear thrusters?”

“Hold on I got it,” and Desmond stood up from the terminal. “Huh,” Jake said again, “Back to normal levels,” he squinted at the gauges.

“What happened?” Desmond asked.

“I dunno. It was like something freaked the Cube powering the main turbine and we got a weird power spike,” Jake was frowning. “It’s back to normal though,” he said.

“That’s good,” Desmond said.

“You wanna go sit back down? I need to keep a better eye on this,” Jake was watching the gauges intently, not even looking at Desmond.

“Kill joy,” Desmond said but did leave Jake and Hawk to their screens and gauges and went back out to the cabin. “They’re all alive and well,” Desmond told Altair.

“Damn,” Altair said and Desmond smirked. “Kid, c’mere,” he motioned and Desmond went over to where he was sitting, Altair moved over to the other seat so Desmond could sit.

“Something wrong?” Desmond asked.

“I dunno, you tell me,” Altair said. “I wanted to know how you’re holding up.” And Desmond nearly got up and left just from that. They’d gone nearly a month without an ‘are you okay?’ directed at Desmond and now here it fucking was. Sure it had a bit of a different phrasing but it was what it was.

The truth was though was that he’d been good, especially since Cordoba when he’d screamed at Altair. He’d been able to unleash some fury and frustration he had, on the ancient and it felt good to do so. He hadn’t had a bad day in a while. A few times after Gafsa he’d had trouble getting out of his sleeping bag or out of his bunk on the boat but since Cordoba he’d been… better. He was doing his best to not think about what he’d done, how he’d fucked everything up so damn royally. He kept his mind occupied with other things, forcing himself to not dwell on how fucked the world had become because he was what he’d tried so damn hard not to be; a good soldier who followed orders.

“I’m okay,” he told Altair.

Altair frowned slightly, “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Desmond nodded a little.

“I just… wanted to touch base. We haven’t really talked since we saw Hera,” and Desmond knew he meant the morning after when he’d found Lucy in Desmond’s bed.

“I’m fine,” Desmond said, and he felt it. The hole in his chest didn’t feel so unfillable like it had been a month and a half ago in Gafsa when he’d learned about the plantations and the experiments being performed on his species in the systematic attempt to wipe them off the face of the earth for good. Shit when he thought about it like that it sounded awful.

Altair looked at him for several moments before nodding, “Okay, good,” Altair said. Then, like it pained him to say it, or more to admit he’d been wrong about something, he said, “I’m sorry about what I did in Cordoba.”

Desmond stared at Altair, unsure he’d just heard that. Altair didn’t apologize. He wasn’t the sort to do so. But here he was. “Ah… it’s okay,” he said awkwardly.

“You were right.”

“Wow I was right? I think that’s a first,” he said cheekily.

“You do deserve to be happy. I don’t agree with it totally, but I have no stones to throw.”

“So you don’t approve of Lucy but you’re willing to admit she has her uses basically?”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “And so far she’s been pretty reliable.”

“She’s just doing what she’s always done,” Desmond told Altair, “doing what she has to to survive. I thought you’d admire her for that since for a mortal she’s lived through two lives where for several years she’s been alive powerful people have wanted her dead, and yet she’s still here. Sound familiar?”

Altair made a face, “Please don’t compare me to her. It hurts my masculinity,” and Desmond laughed.

“But you don’t hate her?”

“I’m still maintaining a healthy amount of skepticism for her motives,” Altair said, “she was grown in a lab. Who knows what they could have done to her. I know Abstergo effectively had a sleeper agent infiltrate the Order and he didn’t know what he was doing until he’d killed Jefferson, the Mentor before your father.”

“She won’t betray us,” Desmond said firmly.

“Trust me, I want to believe you,” Altair said. “I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. But still-

“You’re just being cautious?”

“Yeah-

“If you’re not buckled up, do so,” Hawk suddenly appeared in the doorway between the cockpit and the cabin. He looked a bit pale.

“Why?” Altair asked though they both did and Altair leaned forward into the seat in front of him to whap Ezio awake.

“Just on the safe side; you might want to brace for impact,” and then he vanished into the cockpit. Altair and Desmond looked at each other and then the Numia lurched and dropped like a stone.


	47. Midair Collission

All the lights in the Numia were off and Desmond’s head hurt, he couldn’t see anything, his head ringing too much to focus on low light vision. “Everyone okay?" he heard Hawk yell from ahead of him.

"The hell?" Desmond groaned and pressed his hand to his head.

"We’re alive," Altair called back and was stepping over Desmond. Desmond was suffering some short term memory loss when he’d smacked his head on the seat in front of him. Unlike human planes the back of the Numia’s seat was backed in plastic.

"What happened?" he asked Ezio, who was also getting up.

Ezio looked at him, “We crashed," he said, “You okay?" he asked and stepped over to Desmond to take Desmond’s head in his hands and look him over. Desmond didn’t know how though since it was nearly pitch black in here except for some low, red, lights, along the floor.

"Yeah, I just bumped my head is all," Desmond winced as Ezio gently touched the tender part of his head where he’d hit the seat.

"Okay," Ezio said cautiously, his hands still gentle on his head and face.

"Everyone okay?" Desmond asked him.

"I dunno, lets go check it out," and he let Desmond go, Desmond unbuckled and followed Ezio to the cockpit.

"-how this could have happened," Hawk was saying.

"Can you fix it?" Altair asked.

"I dunno. Maybe. This is a highly advanced machine like nothing I’ve ever seen. We’d need someone with proeathan knowledge to fix it," he looked at Lucy who was standing to the side, trembling slightly. She’d managed to land them on the shore of a lake.

"Don’t look at me," she said, “I don’t know."

Altair sighed, “How damaged is the Numia?"

"I landed us in water," Lucy said, “we should still be airworthy."

"What happened?" Ezio asked.

"We experienced weird power fluctuations," Jake said, “not quite sure what and I’m not skilled enough to run real diagnostics or trouble shoot what happened."

"But why did we crash?" Ezio asked.

"The Cube that runs the whole thing kinda… freaked out is the best way to say it. We had a massive surge of power before it started to drop and then basically went dead."

"Wait…" Ezio said slowly, “The Cube went dead?"

"That’s what it looked like yeah, or powered down so much that it might as well have. It was like something overloaded it."

"Any idea what?" Altair asked.

"I couldn’t even begin to tell you."

"What’s the engine look like now?"

"We’ll have to look," Hawk said. “Though we might be stuck here a while until we either fix it, or decide it’s broken and need to find another way to get to Mexico."

"Damn," Altair sighed. “All right, lets figure this out. Where are we anyway?"

"We were about to cross over into South Carolina," Jake said.

"Okay good, won’t be too cold at night then."

"C’mon Crow, lets go look at the engine," and Hawk dragged Jake away. Altair looked at Lucy but she was still shaking a bit. Altair pushed Ezio out of the cockpit, leaving Desmond alone with her.

"Hey," Desmond moved over to her, she jumped a little. She was still freaked out from crashing the Numia, clearly. “You okay?"

"I crashed," she said, her voice trembling as much as she was.

"Yeah, but we’re all okay," Desmond said and then suddenly she hugged him fiercely, arms around his neck, face pressed into his chest. He hugged her back tightly and gently rubbed her back. “You’re okay too," he said and they stayed like that until Lucy stopped trembling.

—

After a few hours of head scratching and confusion looking inside the engine block Hawk announced that everything looked alright with it. It was a problem that the Cube was dead. He didn’t know what could make a Cube just… die, but it had. Luckily he still had his from Venus and had had Desmond put the new one into the space the old one had been. Of course it would then take a few hours for the Cube to get up to power since something about Desmond dimmed the power in the Cube to make it okay to handle. By then it was night and they decided they should just sleep until morning.

The pilot seat was the largest, and most comfortable, seat in the entire Numia. That was where Desmond slept that night, because he didn’t want to be crammed into one of the smaller passenger seats. His legs would have hated him for life if he did and he didn’t want to sleep on the floor. So he’d sat down in the pilot’s seat with his sleeping bag. Lucy had shown up with her own sleeping bag and they’d zipped them together. He didn’t mind if Lucy slept on him, she helped keep him warm, especially cause it was cold enough to see your breath even during the day.

The only thing with sleeping in the pilot’s seat is that it had the big window in front and as soon as it was daylight Desmond knew it. He groaned and shifted a bit, his body protested painfully. At Pluto he’d had a comfortable bed and he’d do anything to have that back again. He was tired of roughing it, or uncomfortable, or old, beds that were murder on your back. Lucy made some sleepy noises of protest to Desmond’s movements and pressed her face further into his neck, to keep out of the light.

"Ey, kids, up and at’em," Ezio called from back at the door. Damn ancestors and their damn perfect internal clocks. They both groaned. “C’mon, get up, the sooner we do the sooner we can get going since we wanna get south and out of this damn cold."

"Five more minutes dad," Desmond groaned.

Ezio chuckled and he heard him walk over to the pilot’s chair, “C’mon now," he said.

With a groan Desmond opened his eyes, “Fiiine," he complained, the new, winter, sunlight hurt his eyes.

"That’s the ticket," Ezio said with good humor.

Desmond yawned and stretched and only because Lucy was in the same sleeping bag as him did she not fall off his lap. “Sorry," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her up, since she’d kinda slid into an awkward position. He looked past Ezio, outside and blinked in confusion. “Is someone outside?" he asked Ezio.

"No, we all just woke up. Why?"

"Cause someone is out there," Desmond pointed and Ezio turned and looked. The Numia was facing away from the lake, towards some trees. Standing just outside the treeline was a man, he was dressed in proeathan garb, similar to theirs, but different, like it was padded on his shoulders and stomach. He had blonde hair cut short and a long, strong, face. He was too far away to make out any other features.

"Who the hell is that?" Ezio asked, going up to the window and looking out with confusion.

In his lap Lucy yawned, “What is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Someone’s out there," Desmond pointed and unzipped their sleeping bags.

Lucy looked, eyes heavy with sleep and yawned again. She rubbed one of her eyes and groped blindly for the arm of the pilot chair. She found a button and pressed it. Ezio made a startled noise when a screen popped up on the window and they watched the screen zoom in on the figure. The man had dark circles under his eyes and a lip ring.

Lucy suddenly sat bolt upright, nearly falling off his lap, clearly awake. “Daniel?" she asked.

"What?" Ezio turned back and looked at her.

"That’s Daniel," and she was scrambling out of the sleeping bag.

"Hey- Lucy- wait!" but Lucy was out of the cockpit even as Desmond called after her. As she left Hawk strolled.

"Ah, you’re up. What’s up with Blondie? She looked in a hurry."

"That," Ezio pointed, “She said it was Daniel?"

Hawk blinked, “Huh. So it is," he said.

"Uh… who’s Daniel?" Desmond asked. Lucy was now visible through the window and while she didn’t run she was walking quickly towards the man at the treeline.

"Subject four," Hawk said, head cocked to the side, “real name Nikolai Orlov the second. Abstergo wiped his memory after killing his family and remade him; Daniel Cross. He worked for Abstergo after he killed Jefferson… what? fifteen years ago now?"

"Seventeen," Ezio corrected Hawk but Desmond wasn’t listening. He’d just remembered a dream he’d forgotten until now. It had been Venus, looking like Lucy, and she’d looked like Lucy had the night he’d stabbed her, her stomach red and dripping.

Desmond thrashed and scrambled out of the sleeping bags. “Little Bird?" Hawk asked but Desmond still wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t even put on his shoes as he ran out of the cockpit.

"Desmond wha-" Jake was asking but Desmond didn’t pay him any mind and jumped down from the numia onto the ground, not even giving the stairs a moment to unfold. When he hit the ground he started to run, back around to the front of the numia.

‘Beware the golden cross or you’ll lose what’s important,’ Venus had said in the dream. It was no wonder Desmond hadn’t remembered it long after waking. The damn thing was traumatic as hell. As it was he could barely remember the actual event of stabbing Lucy, his mind blocking it to protect him, even a replay of the events was blocked out. But now he remembered because now it had meaning.

Lucy was a few feet from Daniel when he caught up to her and up close he could see what Lucy was clearly ignoring. “Daniel," Lucy said just as Desmond grabbed her. Just in time before Daniel shifted and pulled out a gun, firing where Lucy’s head had just been.

Desmond and Lucy hit the ground, the bullet sailing harmlessly  overhead. Desmond was panting and he looked up at Daniel. His blue eyes were vacant. His body was here but his mind was gone. He looked like subject sixteen sometimes had at Animus island, a body without a soul, knowing he wasn’t really there. Sometimes Clay looked it too. Hell sometimes Desmond looked in a mirror and saw it in himself. It was the Bleeding Effect, robbing you of what and who you were, leaving you hollow and empty, an empty vessel for another mind, another life.

Daniel was empty.

Daniel lowered the gun and Desmond grabbed Lucy’s shoulders and rolled the when Daniel fired again. Then he was on his feet and tackled Daniel. The two of them went down heavily and Desmond wrestled the gun out of Daniel’s hand and threw it away. Daniel punched him and Desmond punched back. They kicked up dirt, both grappling at each other.

Desmond gasped when he felt something cold dig into his gut. He looked down and saw Daniel had his own version of the hidden blade, now sticking into Desmond’s left side, under his ribs. His vision swam and when he looked at Daniel he saw himself, he was in the same place Lucy had been. He blinked and it cleared. He grabbed Daniel’s wrist with his right hand and then punched Daniel in the face twice with his left.

Daniel went limp under him. Desmond cried out when he tugged Daniel’s wrist and pulled the knife out. “Fuck!" he yelled and sat back on Daniel, looking down at himself. Blood was pouring from his stomach. He looked back and saw he was alone but when he looked back he saw the others coming out of the numia, Lucy practically dragging Jake along.

Under him Daniel made a noise and with a pained wince Desmond leaned down and squeezed a pressure point on Daniel’s neck. He knew he could just kill Daniel, but something in Desmond couldn’t. They were sort of the same. Both had been Subjects, toys, for Abstergo, and both were now toys for the proeathans.

"Desmond!" he looked back when Jake called him and he raised his left hand, his right currently pressed against his side to help stem the flow of blood. He and Lucy arrived first, Jake with a case he popped open. “What the hell happened?"

"Bastard got me," Desmond groaned removing his hand to show it was bloody.

"Christ," Jake pulled out a wad of bandages and pressed them to Desmond’s side as the other three came up.

"What the hell happened?" Altair asked.

"He was going to kill Lucy," Desmond winced as Jake pressed against the wound hard. “I stopped him."

"And got himself stabbed while he was at it," Jake said sarcastically.

"Desmond you can’t put yourself at risk," Altair said.

"Worth it," Desmond said and looked at Lucy, “You all right?" he asked, she was kneeling next to him with Jake.

"I’m fine. But you’re not you- you idiot!" she yelled at him.

"The hell! I just saved you- ow!" he yelped when he strained himself a bit too much there.

"You got yourself stabbed!"

"I got myself— I didn’t want to be stabbed!"

"You got yourself hurt unnecessarily!"

"You could be a little grateful I just saved you you know-

"I am not a damsel in distress Desmond. I can take care of myself!"

"Sorry for being so concerned about you! Christ next time I’ll let him shoot you I guess."

"You idiot."

"Can’t all be winners," now he was just annoyed, and he’d been stabbed. Great. Lucy got up in a huff, also angry and went off out of sight.

"Well," Jake said after Lucy left, “Uh… lets get you back to the numia," he said awkwardly. “Altair, wanna help me?" he asked and stood up.

"What are we gonna do about him?" Ezio asked.

"Kill him," Altair said.

"No," Desmond said.

"Kid-

"Don’t kill him. It isn’t his fault," he said as Altair helped him up and wrapped Desmond’s arm around his shoulders to support him.

"Like hell it is. This guy killed Jefferson."

"You’ve killed your fair share of Mentors so don’t act like that even matters," Desmond gave Altair a look.

"Then what do you suggest?" Altair asked sarcastically.

"Put him in the holding cell. We can question him," Desmond said.

"He’s got a point," Hawk said, “and that isn’t a terrible idea. Ezio, get Cross and take him back to the numia."

"And you too," Jake said, giving Desmond a look, “I need to look you over and maybe stitch you up."

"Oh goodie. I get to take my shirt off again," Desmond said sarcastically as they started to walk back to the numia. “It’d be great if I could keep the damn thing on for more than a week at a time." Jake laughed.

Getting up the stairs was torture and Desmond was bleeding even worse once they got him onto the numia. Once there they broke one of the seats so the back lay down, kicking it a few times did a job at that, and sat Desmond down. Desmond hissed and bitched as he pulled off his shirt and watched Ezio put Daniel in the back holding cell that used to be used for slaves.

"Could be worse," Jake said once he’d wiped away the massive amounts of blood. “Didn’t hit anything vital, you just need stitches," he said and pressed a fresh pad against Desmond’s wound, which while still bleeding, was doing less of that.

"Great," Desmond groaned, he hated stitches. While Jake got his supplies together Lucy came back in and looked at him, frowning, she looked guilty. “Hey," he said.

She went over to him and sat across the aisle, “I’m sorry," she said, “for yelling. I was just freaked out," she swallowed.

"It’s okay," he said, because he knew she hadn’t meant it.

She got up and stepped over to him, “You just scared me," she said and held his head, then she leaned down and kissed him. “Don’t do it again or I’ll kill you," and Desmond snorted.

"Yes ma’am," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Good," and she kissed him again.

"All right missy, out of the way I got stitches to give your hot date," Jake said.

"Careful there Jake," Desmond smirked.

“Who clearly isn’t as messed up as he could be if he’s partaking in sarcasm," he continued. “Okay on three I’m gonna start," he said holding a needle and thread. Desmond nodded. “One. Two-" he poked through Desmond’s skin and Desmond yelped.

"That wasn’t three!" he cried.

"Yeah, I know," Jake said boredly and started to stitch him up. Desmond just winced now and then but didn’t complain too loudly about the stitching. “And done," Jake declared it seemed seconds later. Then he wrapped Desmond’s stomach in bandages. “Okay buddy, you should be all set now," he patted Desmond’s non hurt part of his stomach gently.

"Good," but it wasn’t Desmond who spoke, rather Ezio, who was sitting down at the end of the numia. “Because Daniel’s waking up."


	48. Turnstone

Daniel woke silently, with only a soft groan to denounce he was even alive. Desmond got to his feet, wincing as he did so and pulled on a fresh shirt Jake offered him. It still hurt a lot, but he couldn’t let it bother him. He walked over to the cell where Daniel was pushing himself up, the ancients were circled around the cell, looking in. Daniel was just looking at Desmond and Desmond frowned sadly.

“Hello, Daniel,” Desmond said, Daniel said nothing.

“Say something Cross,” Altair growled.

Daniel’s eyes shifted from Desmond, off him to something behind him. A single Russian word left his mouth. Which didn’t help, Desmond didn’t know Russian. But he turned and looked who was behind him. Lucy and Jake had come down to the cell as well. “What’d he say?” Desmond asked.

“Traitor,” Altair said.

Lucy folded her arms and looked annoyed, but she didn’t say anything to the claim. “So what do we want to ask him?” Jake asked.

“Not worth it,” Desmond said.

“Huh?” Jake gave him a confused look and Desmond looked back at Daniel.

“There’s nothing in there,” he waved in hand in front of Daniel’s face, the man didn’t blink, didn’t move, he kept staring at Lucy. “He’s Bled through. Like Clay was,” he frowned.

Altair said something in Russian, Daniel didn’t move, respond, or even seem to have heard, he kept looking straight ahead at Lucy. Altair said a few more things in Russian, clearly to get some sort of response. He got none. “One track mind,” he looked at Lucy behind Desmond, “You know he was alive?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“What happened to him?” Hawk asked, “Last time we heard of Cross he was leading Abstergo’s field units in the hunt for Assassins. Was more than a little cracked, but at least he was… alive.”

Lucy stepped past Desmond, Daniel moved forward in the cell, going right up to the bars. She stopped out of arm’s length and looked into his eyes. “Yes,” she said, “and I know who did it.”

“Who?” Hawk asked.

“Warren Vidic. He did this once to Subject Four-B, to see what would happen if someone was allowed, in a contained environment, to completely Bleed through. The two conciouses warred, neither of them won. All that was left was a body, the mind effectively brain dead. Fours were his attempt to creature sleeper agents. Daniel was the only one that worked.”

“So Vidic did this to him?” Desmond asked.

She looked back at him and nodded, “You know those terrible zombie movies before this? Its like that. Sort of. I only read about his research after he’d done it in the eighties. It’s a single minded drive to do whatever they are preprogrammed to do once the loss of actual cognitive neural activity. They don’t know what they’re doing, or what’s going on, only what they’re supposed to do. Apparently Subject Four-B was told to kill a politician in Africa, he didn’t succeed, but he didn’t stop until he was gunned down.”

“So what I’m getting from all this,” Altair said, “Is that he’s been sent to kill you, and won’t stop, unless he’s dead, or you’re dead?”

“That seems to be the gist,” she agreed.

“Then lets just kill him and be done with it,” Altair said and went over to the cell bars, Daniel still didn’t move. He was staring right at Lucy, only sometimes blinking.

“No,” Desmond said.

“What?” Altair gave him a look.

“This happened to Clay. You fixed it,” he said, “Fix it again.”

Altair frowned at him, “I don’t have an Apple, and even if I did there’s no guarantee it would work. Clay lived again, his brain restarted, including his separation from his ancestors, long enough for me to get in there and do something.”

“You still could,” Desmond frowned.

“Why should I?” Altair demanded and then looked back at Daniel, “He’s a traitor, even more than Lucy, original or otherwise. Assassin bred, Templar blooded,” he gave Lucy a look, she narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing. “Just gut him and be done with it.”

“What I don’t understand though,” Ezio spoke for the first time, “is why they even sent him? Nikolai Orlev was a good Assassin, no one will dispute that, but there’s three of us. He’d be no match for us. Why send him when the proeathans know we’d annihilate him?”

“Because I needed time,” and Desmond didn’t know anyone but Altair could make him go cold like he did just then, like a hunk of ice had dropped into his gut. He turned and looked over his shoulder slowly. Cain was standing just inside the numia, a sort of oddly pleasant look on his face. “You left the door open,” he said glibly, pointing at it.

Someone pushed him aside and the next thing Desmond knew Altair was down the aisle meeting Cain head on. Cain smiled and brought up a knife himself when Altair attacked him with his hidden blade. Desmond held onto the seat back watching then fight in the tiny space, mouth slightly open. It was terrifying to watch them fight, because they knew how the other moved and neither could land a hit. Every time one of them tried to punch or kick or cut the other they would block or dodge, like they knew what the other was going to do. They’d spent hundreds of years together though, of course they’d know how the other fought.

Desmond had never seen two people move so fast in his life either. Cain and Altair were blurs, barely being still long enough to attack before they were moving again. The last time Desmond had seen Altair this serious in a fight had been in Dubai when he’d cut down dozens  to make sure he had gotten out safely. There was no joy in his face, no amusement in his mouth. He was death and his blade had Cain’s soul on it.

They fought back and forth in the aisle, somehow able to always have a footing even in the cramped space. Altair was pushing Cain back. Back and back until Altair took a swipe at Cain and Cain grabbed his wrist. Altair attacked with his right and Cain grabbed that too. Desmond had flashbacks of Solomon’s Temple.

“Got’cha Abel, just like always,” Cain said, and unlike Altair Cain was positively gleeful. “I’ll finish playing with you, little brother, in a moment,” and then to his surprise Cain kicked Altair right out the door and down onto the ground some ten feet below. It wouldn’t kill him, but it’d hurt.

“Now then,” Cain said as a line appeared on his cheek, a thin cut that started to bleed. Altair’s last attack hadn’t missed. Cain dabbed at it with the back of his hand and looked at the blood. “Rude, Abel,” he called out the Numia and pressed the button that closed the door, and locking it from the inside. There was now no way for Altair to get back inside. “As I was saying,” he said and started towards them, “Which of you children wants to try next?” he asked with all the fiendish delight Desmond remembered Altair having back in the twelfth century.

Cain staggered when a knife appeared in his chest, “I do,” Ezio said and slid between him and Desmond like water, he had several throwing knives in his hand, but his aim had been off, and he’d hit Cain in the stomach. A non fatal wound.

Cain pulled the knife out and looked at it before tossing it aside boredly. “Oh right, you,” Cain sprang forward suddenly and Ezio pushed back. Desmond had to get out of the way to not get caught up in it. Neither Cain nor Ezio wanted Desmond dead, so getting between them would just put him in actual danger. Cain was faster, even Desmond knew that, but Ezio was riddling Cain’s arms with cuts, seeing places to land hits Altair hadn’t. Sometimes it did you no good to know your enemy.

He looked back when he heard something hiss and pop much like the front door and saw light spill into the Numia from a back door. Lucy had opened it. But then Desmond turned back around when he heard a thud. “Rumbustious tike,” Cain said, breathing a bit heavy, Ezio lay on the ground, bleeding from the chest, having been gutted across the stomach, his intestines sprawled across the floor uselessly. “Who’s next? And close that door, girl, you’re letting in a draft,” he said and lifted a gun. Desmond reacted without thinking and jumped forward, kicking Cain right in the solar plexus. Cain hadn’t been expecting it and bent over double, wheezing. Desmond was also bent over, and cried out in pain as he ripped open his stitches and started to bleed from his wound again.

A blur rushed past Desmond and he got to watch Hawk kick Cain in the head, which was a very satisfying sight, sending him flailing backwards. He reached for Cain’s head, no doubt to break his neck, but Cain snapped his arm up, still holding the knife and dug into Hawk’s arm. Hawk grunted but couldn’t follow through with the twist. Cain grabbed the hurt arm and twisted it with both hands. Desmond felt himself pale when something snapped. Hawk yelled and Cain slashed with his knife, cutting into the other side of Hawk’s arm.

“Fuck,” Jake said across the aisle when Cain ripped Hawk’s arm off at the elbow. Cain looked down at the severed arm in his hand with disinterest and then threw it over his shoulder. Hawk was on his knees, actually sounding in pain. Cain cut his throat open and he flopped over next to Ezio, gasping out a few times before he lay still.

“Desmond,” he turned, Altair was back, advancing on them, “Move,” he said.

“What?” Desmond stared at him.

“Move back, idiot,” Altair snapped and raised the rifle Lucy had brought, it looked different now though, with a large barrel, bigger even than a fifty cal. More like the barrel of an RPG or a mortar…  Desmond realized what it was instantly after that thought and ducked behind the chair, Jake took his own safety behind one opposite him. Altair pulled the trigger and there was a dull ‘pop’ and a slug nearly the size of Desmond’s fist left the barrel. They all heard the impact.

Cain cried out for a second before he was silent.

“Stubborn son of a slut,” Altair spat in Arabic and Desmond peered out from behind the chair. Cain was dead, a huge hole blown in his chest and Desmond kept down bile when he realized he could see Cain’s ribs and drippy bits, the hole in his chest at least four inches deep. Then Altair was cursing more, angrily, though not in any languages Desmond knew and was kicking Cain’s corpse. He was furious that was for sure.

“You three,” he snapped at them, “Stop hiding. We need to leave, now.”

“I can’t fly without a second copilot,” Lucy said, her voice soft and weak in wake of Altair’s absolute fury like she never had been before. Desmond didn’t blame her. He’d seen Altair in all versions of rage. But this wasn’t just rage or a tantrum or him being pissed; this was heartbreak. This was a pain that went beyond rage into torment, a grief he could never snuff out and covered by being angry.

“Desmond, get up there and help them. Give him the easy job. We need to leave now, before Cain starts to regenerate. The more often you go Under the quicker it starts and he’s done it more than any of us.”

“Okay,” Lucy nodded and came forward, she seemed shaken, but Desmond didn’t blame her, he was shaken too. Desmond stood up and helped her get over the three bodies in the aisle. “What are you going to do to Daniel?” she asked and looked back at the man in the cage.

Altair glared in Daniel’s direction, “I’m going to slit his throat and throw them both out into the cold,” he said mercilessly.

“C’mon,” Desmond said quietly and pulled Lucy away from the gore. Jake followed behind them and they quickly locked themselves in the cockpit.

“That was scary,” Jake said, “I’ve never seen him like that… ever!”

“Yeah well there’s a lot of time between when you’ve known him,” Desmond reminded him.

“We need to go,” Lucy said, “Desmond, you’ll do Hawk’s job. It’s easy,” and she pulled him to the station and sat him down. “So these are the gauges you need to worry about. They monitor the Earth’s gravity field,” and Desmond instantly felt himself become lost. “Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked a minute later.

“… No,” he admitted, “I mean I did but I didn’t understand it.”

Lucy groaned, “Jake, come over her. I can’t speak normal person with this stuff.”

“You speak anything other than nerd Lucy?” Jake asked, “Because that is complete news to me.”

“Shut up and show him,” she said sternly.

“Right.”

“Why do you two have to make me feel so stupid about this?"

“Don’t worry, man, I had to have it explained to me in easy mode too. Now like Hawk who got it all in hard mode. So this is a gauge that tells you how high we are, and then this monitor shows us where we can go to go higher, or lower. Red lines send us up, blue lines send us down-“ and Jake was pointing. Desmond reached out to do as Jake told him, about how he needed to send constant information to Lucy in the pilot chair. She might be flying the thing, but Desmond was navigating, and Jake was making sure they wouldn’t fall out of the sky. As soon as he touched the monitor the lights flickered and he jerked his hand back. The flickering stopped.

“What was that?” Desmond asked.

“What? Do it again,” Jake said, Desmond touched the monitor, the screen started to flicker and a beeping came from the other side. Jake jumped over to that side, “Stop touching it!” Desmond took his hand away, he left behind a golden dot. “Holy shit what did you do?” Jake was leaning over his station, looking at a screen.

“Want me to do it again?”

“No!” Jake cried, “You just put us at half power, what did you do?” he turned and looked at Desmond in confusion.

“I didn’t do anything,” Desmond was equally bewildered.

Jake looked at Lucy, “He can’t fly,” he said and then a lightbulb went off, “This is the exact same thing that happened the other day. There was a jump in energy and then a rapid decrease, when you came and bothered us,” Jake stared at Desmond. “What did you do?”

Desmond blinked, “Nothing,” he said, not a little freaked out. “I just touched it. I can’t… control whatever my body is doing,” he looked down at his hands, the glyphs were suddenly and abruptly back on his hands.

“Even if he could,” Lucy suddenly moved over to his hurt side which he suddenly remembered hurt a lot, “he’s bleeding again,” she tugged up his shirt. “You popped your stitches?”

“When I kicked Cain in the fucking chest,” Desmond said and winced, sucking in breath when Lucy touched the bandages.

“Damnit Desmond,” Jake said and left the cockpit.

“Sorry,” she said gently. “What happened?”

“I have no idea,” Desmond insisted.

“Has this happened before? Other than the other day?” she asked.

“No—“ but then he stopped, suddenly remembering something.

“Desmond?” she asked.

“Yes. It did,” he said, even sounding shocked himself. “In Alexandria, we met my clone,” she nodded, “and proeathan soldiers were chasing us. One found me, when I was alone. I freaked out and grabbed him when he tried to drag me away and… and his body armor locked up completely. Like crashed and stopped working. Shit I completely forgot that,” he ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Or more, I just forgot about it till now.”

“Do the others know?” he shook his head. She frowned as the door opened, Jake leading Altair behind him.

“You can’t do it?” Altair asked, voice dark.

“Not that I don’t want to,” Desmond said as Jake took a knee next to him and cut off his bandages. “I physically can’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

Before Desmond could say anything Lucy did, “He interacts badly with proeathan tech,” she said and then explained what had happened and Desmond’s tale of Alexandria.

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Altair demanded.

“I forgot okay? I was sort of under a lot of pressure at the time and being hunted, not to mention I’d just found out about my clone. It was just another weird thing on a list of weird things that happen to me okay?”

Altair frowned at him, “So there’s nothing we can do to fix it?” he asked Lucy.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what he’s doing in the first place.”

Altair looked back at Desmond sternly, brows drawn sharply down over his eyes, “Put on gloves,” he said after a few moments, “Then try it.”

Desmond cocked his head to the side but did get up and went to his bag, which was by the pilot’s chair since he’d slept there, and pulled out some gloves. Like the rest of the proeathan gear Pluto had given them the gloves were sleek and rather form fitting. They also had curved pads on the fingertips, for haptic feedback on touch screens. Since they’d been in the numia the entire time he’d yet to wear them. Now he tugged them on. “You think it’ll work?” he asked Altair as he sat again.

“Worth a shot,” Altair said bluntly, still sounding angry, though not at him.

Desmond placed his hand on the screen, Lucy was watching the other station while Jake was getting another needle ready. “Nothing,” Lucy said. “Must just be your skin,” she looked at him.

“Fantastic,” Altair said blandly, “fix his stitches, show him the rest, we need to fly.”

“The others?” Jake asked.

“I’ll take care of them.”

“What about Daniel and Cain?” Lucy asked cautiously and Desmond hissed when Jake started to fiddle with his stitches, to take them out so he could redo them.

“Both outside,” Altair said, “I made it painless at least,” he told her.

She looked down, “For the best, I suppose,” she said softly.

Altair looked at the three of them, “Ezio and Hawk will be Under for a while, Hawk longer, he lost his arm.”

“Like how long?” Desmond asked through grit teeth as Jake started to restitch his side.

“Week, at least, if I can get his arm to reconnect probably less. I need to put those two of them back together so they’ll Wake faster,” he said. “You going to be okay, kid?” he asked Desmond.

Desmond nodded, “I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” and for a second Altair hesitated, then he turned and left the cockpit.

“Done?” Desmond asked Jake.

“Almost… done,” he declared and rewrapped Desmond’s wound. Desmond’s head spun. It only hurt when he remembered it hurt, otherwise it didn’t. “Okay so lets continue the easy mode explanation now that you can do the thing,” and he grunted as he got to his feet. Desmond nodded and listened intently as Jake continued to explain. It didn’t sound super hard. “And that’s about it,” he said half an hour later.

“Okay,” Desmond nodded.

“We ready?” Lucy asked.

“Probably not, but we have no choice,” Jake said. “So… lets go,” and he went and sat at his station.

Lucy looked at Desmond, “I’ll do it,” he assured her.

“Okay,” she said softly and went and sat in the pilot’s chair. Around them the numia started to hum as she did… something. Desmond wasn’t quite sure exactly, but she was doing something. “Desmond, give me lift,” Lucy said.

“Right,” and he sent her the information she needed, though his hands felt cumbersome in the gloves. Once he’d been prompted the first time to do what he’d needed to do he didn’t need to have it done a second time. The numia lifted up from the edge of the lake and turned on its horizontal axis. So far so good. “No crashing this time,” he said.

Across from him Jake laughed, “Just don’t touch anything, Des, and I think we’ll be good.”


	49. Quetzal

It took them three days to reach Mexico. The numia couldn’t fly over water, at least not this class of numia at any rate. Desmond was good at the controls now by the time they reached the peninsula. It was warm in southern Mexico. This close to the equator it was easy to forget that the earth was currently in the middle of a new ice age. Ezio and Hawk were still Under, and without Hawk there was no way to turn on his tablet that had the coordinates they needed to know where they were going.

So it meant they had to sit and wait.

Altair hated it.

“Calm down, Altair,” Desmond told him. They’d landed in a large clearing, the numia sitting pretty on the grass, and Desmond was just happy to be warm.

“Cain’s coming,” Altair said, “And those _idiots_ won’t Wake fast enough,” he glared at the numia where Hawk and Ezio were. Altair had ‘fit’ them back together for the most part, now all that was left was for their bodies to heal.

“They can’t help it,” Desmond reminded him. “Now stop pacing and relax, for like… an hour,” Desmond was lying on the grass like the numia, Lucy had joined him. Jake was spending some quality time in the bathroom doing whatever it was that he needed to do so it was just the three of them outside enjoying the Mexican sun. Or trying to. Altair was doing his best at not being able to enjoy _anything_. “You’re wearing a line in the grass for fuck’s sake!”

Altair glared at him, Desmond just rolled his eyes, “He’s a drama queen,” he said, looking over at Lucy.

“I know,” Lucy said, eyes closed, soaking in the sun.

Altair growled wordlessly at the both of them. “Want me to go get Jake?” Desmond asked. “I mean after he’s done being mad at you for interrupting his shit you can at least yell at each other for a little bit. More productive than what you’re doing now.”

“You’re making light of a dim situation-

“Damn right I am!” Desmond said and smiled when Lucy rolled over on the grass, towards him. “Can’t be all doom and gloom and Nosferatu all the time,” and he liked when she put her head on his chest. “Cain’s coming, we know that. But until Hawk wakes up, there isn’t much we _can do_ about it.”

Altair said nothing, and kept pacing in the circle. Desmond rolled his eyes, “He needs to be grumpy about something,” Lucy murmured sleepily. “Just let him.”

“I guess,” Desmond grumbled. “Totally killing the nice vibes.” Lucy just shrugged against his chest and for more or less seemed to fall asleep. Altair kept up his pacing and Desmond ignored him, instead staring at the clear blue sky.

A while passed and then the numia door opened, “For the record,” Jake announced as he hopped down the steps to the ground, “I feel fantastic.”

“Don’t need a play by play,” Lucy called from Desmond’s chest.

“What’s with the grump?” Jake asked, standing over Desmond and looking over at Altair briefly.

“He’s being himself,” Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Ah-

“What I want to know,” Altair suddenly said, still walking, his hands steepled against his lips, he did his best thinking while in motion, “Is how did Cain find us in the first place? We’re been under the radar.”

“Well we were the only thing not proeathan flying over the Atlantic,” Jake said.

“Yes but there aren’t any bases near there, we were too far,” Altair said.

“You don’t need a base to see something,” Jake said, “Satellites. I mean they’re still up there,” he pointed up, “Google had one of the most powerful earth imaging satellites in the world. Don’t see how they couldn’t manipulate it.”

“But its like like finding a yellow needle in a haystack,” Altair said, “The earth is gigantic, and they can’t just… sweep the coast or the ocean hoping to get lucky. They _had_ to have known. Somehow,” he looked deep in thought. “How did they _know_? And how did Cain catch up to us so fast in America?” he was talking to himself for the most part, talking through the problem. “How?” Altair muttered to himself over and over again, walking in a circle.

“He’ll be at that a while,” Jake said and flopped down next to Desmond. “Not the brightest crayon in the box, even after nine hundred years,” Altair was too wrapped up in his thoughts to yell at Jake for that. “How we holding up?” he asked Desmond.

“Fine,” Desmond said.

“Really?” Jake asked, giving Desmond a significant look.

Desmond looked down at Lucy dozing on his chest and then back at Jake, “Yeah, really. Fine.”

Jake grinned, “Excellent,” he said.

“They’re tracking us,” Altair said suddenly and came to a dead stop.

“What now?” Jake asked.

“The proeathans aren’t just looking for us. They’re _tracking us_ ,” Altair said, looking at the three of them.

“And how would they do that? Hmm?” Jake asked, cocking his head at Altair.

Altair’s eyes went to Lucy, “Well someone was _made_ by them,” he growled.

Lucy roused herself, looking up at Altair. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“They’d have to have a way to track our location,” he said, “We’ve been hiding, keeping a low profile. Other than Gafsa and our trip across the Atlantic we’ve been undetectable, unknown. And yet,” his eyes sharpened, “They only started finding us once you joined us.”

“I don’t have a bug,” she said.

“Your memories are synthetic, _you’re_ synthetic, you don’t know what you do or don’t know-

“Hey,” Desmond snapped, “Lay the fuck off,” he growled.

“This is serious, kid,” Altair said. “If she’s leading the proeathans, and Cain, to us, she’s a liability-

“Without me you wouldn’t be here,” Lucy said, “Who else would fly the numia? You?” she demanded. “What is it going to take for you to get through your fat head that I’m _on your side_.”

“It could be completely involuntary,” Altair said, “You even said yourself. You _have_ to obey them. They created you. How do you know they didn’t create you with a tracking device? So if you ever went rouge, they could find you again.”

“They wouldn’t,” she said.

“How do you now?” Altair demanded.

“They wouldn’t!” she cried, “They wouldn’t because they don’t need to.”

“What do you mean don’t need to?”

Lucy looked uncomfortable, “Clones give off different bioelectric signatures than humans,” she said softly, “So that if they lost one in a crowd, it could be found. And… and I assume synthetics are the same. If they wanted to all they’d have to do is ping an area. But it’d only work close range, five miles at best. But if they really wanted to, they could find me, without a tracking chip.”

That didn’t ease Altair’s paranoia, “So Cain probably _is_ tracking you. Or the numia,” he pointed at it.

“Without their network they only have a hundred miles of radar and communications around the bases though,” Jake said, “Pluto said that. There aren’t any bases that close and Pluto’s locked down from the proeathans.”

“They’re tracking us _somehow,”_ Altair said, “And the only one here who’s been under proeathan influence is her,” he glared at Lucy.

“That isn’t true,” Desmond said sitting up, Altair looked at him. “I was captive for _five years_. How do you know they aren’t tracking _me_? I mean, Lucy’s a broken product to them, or they could just make another one. I’m one of a kind,” he looked down at himself, “And why not send someone who _loves_ killing you to come collect me? Clone didn’t work, Lucy,” he looked at her, “didn’t work,” might have though, if done differently.

“Cain is them grasping at straws?” Lucy asked.

“Maybe,” he shrugged and looked at Altair, “You said Cain doesn’t like being controlled.”

“Hates it,” Altair said, “He committed suicide once to get out of a job of dealing with someone who was trying to blackmail him. Came back from the dead and three months later they were dead instead. Cain goes to any extreme to not be manipulated. It must drive him _crazy_ to have to obey the likes of them.”

“Then Cain is a last ditch effort,” Desmond said, “I mean, you’ve killed everyone else,” he told Altair, he seemed pleased about that. “What the hell did they promise Cain in return for his cooperation?”

“Yeah? What the hell does he want? Other than to kill you, horrifically, multiple times-

“ _Thank you_ , Jake,” Altair growled and glared at him. “And I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in centuries.”

“So all we know is that, somehow, somehow we’re _not sure how_ , he’s tracking us. It could be through me, it could be through the numia, it could be through the numia, or satellites. One way or another though he _is_ tracking us. For what gain we don’t know. Just that he’s supposed to take me to the proeathans. And right now we’re out two immortals and have no idea how to find him or where we’re going.”

“Yes, that about sums up the situation,” Altair said.

“So, maybe this is a stupid question,” Jake said.

“Probably.”

Jake ignored Altair, “But Hawk is currently Under, and fucking bled out all over.”

“Yes Jake, that is how death usually works for him,” Altair sighed.

“Will you shut up for ten seconds. I know you love it when everything is about you but you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that you’re not terribly important,” and Altair looked physically wounded by that. Jake turned back to Desmond, “But couldn’t we just use some of Hawk’s blood to start his computer?”

There was a long pause, “We’re stupid,” Lucy declared and pushed herself to her feet. “Lets find our target,” and she headed for the numia. Desmond got to his feet quickly and they followed after her.

Hawk and Ezio were sitting in the backs of the numia, both still dead, but there was no smell of rot or shit. They were just existing. Ezio’s stomach was horrific but Desmond didn’t look, and Hawk’s severed arm wasn’t quite so severed anymore, the skin having pulled together creating a visible seam. Jake and Altair slept in the front of the numia, Lucy and Desmond in the cockpit, away from them, to get away from the gore.

“Here it is,” Jake produced Hawk’s glass-like computer.

“Now we just need some blood,” Lucy said and looked at Desmond, then at Altair.

“Squeamish?” Altair asked.

“It seems disrespectful,” she swallowed.

Altair rolled his eyes, “I’ve seen and done _far_ worse things to corpses,” he said and cut Hawk’s finger, but he didn’t bleed.

“Uh…”

“While Under you don’t bleed or excrete any fluids, your body uses them to regrow and repair what you fucked up. Rub the screen on the cut, it’ll come off.”

“Okay…” Jake said awkwardly and did so. The screen flared to life. “I’ve become slightly computer stupid since the incident, someone figure this out,” he handed the fogged glass to Lucy.

Lucy stepped away from the two dead immortals and sat on a sea near the front. She swiped the screen open, “It needs a password as well,” she frowned.

Altair leaned over her shoulder and tapped in a nine character password. The screen expanded and revealed the desktop. “You know Hawk’s password?” Desmond asked him.

“Hawk is horribly predictable when it comes to important things like this. It was either his wife’s name, or his son’s name.”

“Hawk had a wife and son?” Jake asked, “I seriously can’t picture it.”

“Of course he did idiot. Desmond exists doesn’t he,” he held his hands out to Desmond like he was on display and Jake was a fucking idiot.

“I thought he just had a one night stand or something. Seems more Hawk, impersonal, businesslike.”

Altair sighed, “You have no idea,” he redirected his attention to Lucy, “Find it?”

“I think?” she said as she was expanding folders, everything looked meticulously organized. Finally she clicked a file called ‘Last Stop.sat’. A program ran. “This is where Pluto said we had to go,” she said as the program showed a satellite image, and she zoomed in.

“Ruins,” Jake said.

“Not just any ruins,” Lucy said softly. “That’s Tikal, the site of the largest Mayan ruins to date and one of their largest cities. Mercery is literally sitting under Tikal one, one of the largest structures on the site.”

“Do you and Hawk _ever_ get tired of talking nerd?” Jake asked. She gave him an annoyed look. “Does she do it in her sleep too?” he asked Desmond.

“Shut up Jake,” everyone said.

“Can you get us there?” Altair asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, “Just input these coordinates to the numia and it should be easy flying, for the most part.”

“All right then, lets go then,” Altair said and patted the back of the chair. Lucy stood and headed for the cockpit, Desmond and Jake followed.

—

They landed in Tikal as it was getting dark. There wasn’t much they could do now. They still had to wait for Ezio and Hawk to wake up, but at least _now_ they were in the right place. It went a long way to make Altair calm.

Well, _calmer_ at any rate.

“Hopefully this will be over soon,” Desmond said as he and Lucy were getting ready to sleep.

She looked at him sadly, “It won’t ever be over, Desmond,” she said.

He frowned, “I meant at least this running around. Maybe once Mercery is active other stuff can happen. Maybe I won’t have to be the _soul_ fucking messenger who has literally gone half way around the world to turn a machine on.”

“I know,” she said and gently cupped his face, “A lot has been asked of you.”

“Understatement,” he grumbled.

“You’ve done really well all things considering,” she said.

He looked up at her from where he was sitting in the pilot’s chair and pulled her into his lap. “Not till recently,” he said.

“Hmm?” she cocked her head at him, confused.

“Before Gafsa…” he hesitated. She’d be _so_ mad at him for what he was about to say. Mad and concerned and Desmond didn’t know if he could handle _her_ doing all the things the others did. Always asking if he was okay, how he was holding up. At least Jake had tact about it at least, and believed him when he lied. Altair and Ezio believed because they wanted to, because if they let themselves accept the alternative they’d be lost too. Hawk didn’t ask, he knew. The hole is Desmond’s chest that reached down to his soul was deep and would probably never heal. Desmond would never be ‘fine’ again, not like how he had been. He had seven billion deaths on his shoulders, the whole of humanity, and what was left of it rested on the back of his neck, weighing him down, making him want to die. How did he tell her that?

“Before Gafsa?” she asked.

“I wasn’t… as good,” was what he could get out. “I’m doing better now,” so much better.

“That’s good,” she said and ran her fingers through his hair.

“You made me better,” he said.

“Desmond-

“You were the first person I ever killed for real,” he said. “The first one always weighs the heaviest.”

She swallowed, “It does,” she nodded slightly.

“As much as I was _so completely done_ with the situation when I first saw you in Gafsa, I was so glad you were alive,” he squeezed her, pulling her firmly against him.

“Well I’m glad to have helped,” she said. Desmond said nothing, still feeling the weight of humanity on him. He tried not to think about it. Actually thinking about it made him want to die, to just take himself out of the equation so the proeathans couldn’t win by having him. But then, the humans probably wouldn’t win either. It made the hole yawn wider. “Desmond?” she asked, “How were you before Gafsa?”

“Lets just say, you’d have been real disappointed in me, okay?”

“Well I can be disappointed in you right now for dodging the question if you want?”

He chuckled, “No,” he said. “All you need to know is that it was bad.”

“How bad?”

“ _Bad_ ,” he said.

“Oh Desmond,” and she knew. He knew she knew. At least some of it. She knew he’d wanted to just end it at the least. “Do you still think that?”

He shook his head, and then smiled, “Like I said,” he said, squeezing her again and shifted in the chair, “You made me better. My own, personal, balm against a world in flames.”

She smiled, “You’re sweet,” and kissed him, cupping his cheek. He kissed her back and she shifted to find a more comfortable position on his lap. That turned out to be straddling him, which Desmond had no problem with _at all_. 

Desmond held the back of her neck, wanting to just have a chance to just kiss her like he hadn’t really before. For the moment he wasn’t worried about the end of the world, or the proeathans, or Cain, or what they were going to do next, or humanity. All he cared about was a beautiful girl in his lap, kissing him like she’d been made to. Funnily enough though; she had been.

“Seriously?” Lucy gasped, out of breath and looked down.

“Remember what I said that night at Pluto?” he asked with a slight grin.

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“I was too tired,” he pushed his hips up a bit, “I’m not too tired now,” he was smirking now.

“Oh Mr. Miles,” she teased him and then sucked on her lower lip with her own devious smirk. “What would the others think?”

“They can fuck themselves, or each other, for all I care,” he said, running his hand up her spine. She giggled. “They’re out there, we’re in here, they won’t know.”

She looked indecisive a moment. “At least it isn’t a squeaky bed,” she said.

“No,” he agreed, “It certainly isn’t,” and he kissed her again, making her groan when he finally ran his hand along her back under her shirt, warm skin, to warm skin.


	50. The Bone Eater

Desmond hadn’t been here for a long time. He sat on the ground and above and below him were the cosmos, infinite and unending. Before four AIs had stood like sentinels, like they were sleeping, but there. Now though they were gone. Instead shapes made of smoke and stars stood just outside his range of vision, the only parts of them he could see were their glowing yellow eyes.

He hadn’t had a dream like this in five years, not since he woke the proeathans. He’d had some with Venus, or once in the woods, running from them. Who they were he hadn’t known at the time. Now he did though. They were the AI, pinnacles of proeathan civilization and technology. The shadow forms, of which he counted over a dozen of, Desmond knew were the other AIs. But they were distant, and didn’t get close. 

He looked when someone came near and was surprised. It wasn’t Venus like usual, but rather Pluto, he looked as he had the last time he’d seen him. “You shouldn’t be here,” Pluto said, and took a knee next to him.

“Where is _here_ exactly?” Desmond asked.

“Dream interfacing,” he said, “its how we communicate without the use of our normal communications,” he looked at the shadows. “They know you’re here. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” Desmond asked, he didn’t feel in particular danger though.

“Tell the second son to alter the block. They’ve been interfacing with you. They know where you are. He needs to prevent the others from interfacing with you. Do you understand? They’re coming.” Desmond didn’t see why that was a bad thing, he couldn’t feel it in himself to be panicked.

“Okay, I’ll tell him,” he said calmly.

“Desmond,” Pluto said in a hard tone and grabbed Desmond’s face, making him look at him. “Wake up.”

—

There was banging on the door that woke Desmond. “Desmond, get up!” Jake was yelling and he heard a bang on the wall. Something felt wrong, he woke quickly.

“Hey, c’mon, get up sleepy head,” Desmond told Lucy and unzipped their sleeping bag. She got off him with a yawn and stretched.

“What’s all that noise?” she asked as she pulled on her pants, which were off to the side, Desmond had slept fully clothes as usual. It was easier for him though.

“No idea,” Desmond said and there was another bang and he went to go check, still feeling wrong in the pit of his stomach.

He opened the door and Jake fell into the cockpit on he chest, but his head was twisted around to look at Desmond. Someone had snapped it all the way around. Desmond looked up.

Cain had Altair pinned to the floor, and Altair was grabbing at him, shoving, trying to get a hold of the other immortal, but Cain didn’t seem to notice. Cain turned when he heard the door open, and Jake fall to the ground. “Ah, that’s where they were hiding you,” Cain said with a mean smile, he was holding a long knife with a wicked curve.

“Stay away from him,” Altair hissed.

Cain looked down at him, “While it has been fun Abel, I really must go now.”

“Fuck you Cain,” Altair spat.

“See you when you Wake Up, brother,” and Cain stabbed Altair right through the throat, breaking his spine with a crunch.

Cain heaved himself to his feet with a grunt and Desmond closed the door, shoving Jake out of the way to do so. “Desmond?” Lucy asked, staring at him from the pilot’s seat.

“Cain’s here,” he said and he had no idea what to do. He just backed up onto the cockpit.

“What? Its been four days? How did he regenerate so quickly?” she asked, grabbing his arm. 

“Altair said the more often you go Under the quicker you regenerate,” Desmond said, “Remember where he’s been?”

“Yes,” and the door opened. Cain stood in the doorway, looking unruffled.

“Do we have any weapons in here?” Desmond asked her quietly.

“… No,” she whispered as Cain stepped over Jake’s dead body, walking towards them. “They’re in the body.”

Desmond cursed. “So,” Cain said, standing on the opposite side of the pilot’s chair now. They were backed up against the front window of the numia, but there was nowhere else to go. “Going to fight me too, boy?” he asked.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he asked.

“My employers said I wasn’t to harm you. So I won’t. But one way or another, you’re coming with me. All your friends are dead,” he looked behind Desmond, at Lucy, who he freely admitted he was shielding with his own body. “Well, almost all of them,” he said.

The words leapt out of Desmond’s mouth barely before he had finished thinking them, “I’ll come with you,” he said. Cain cocked his head to the side.

“Come again?” Cain asked.

“I’ll come with you. You… you just can’t hurt her-

“Desmond, no!” Lucy whispered and grabbed his arm.

“Do we have a deal, Cain?”

Cain smiled, “Sure kid. You come along quietly, she gets to live. For now.”

“Desmond,” Lucy hissed.

He turned to her, “Its fine,” he told her softly.

“But Cain-

“He won’t hurt me. When the others Wake-

“We’ll find you,” she promised.

After a second of hesitation, Desmond nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid. My life is more valuable to them than yours.”

“Kid, hurry it up, I don’t have all day,” Cain said boredly.

Lucy looked over his shoulder at Cain, “We’ll find you,” she promised.

He kissed her once and then turned and walked towards Cain. “Okay,” he said.

“That’s a boy,” Cain his his hand on the back of Desmond’s neck and propelled him out of the cockpit. They stepped over Jake, and then had to step over Altair. Well Desmond did, Cain just walked right on top of Altair’s body.

“You won’t hurt her?” Desmond asked once they were on the ground.

“Kid, I’m a man of my word, no matter what Abel might tell you otherwise. I won’t touch her,” he smiled and Desmond believed him. “Now c’mon,” and he led Desmond to the jungle. Once Tikal had been perfectly mowed, the trees kept back and pruned. Now the lawns were tall and wild, the forest once more encroaching on the ancient city. And they were headed for that jungle.

“No offense meant, but I’m just making this easier on myself right now,” Cain said when they reached the tree line.

“What does that-“ but Cain squeezed a pressure point around his neck and Desmond passed out.

—

Desmond came to when he was abruptly dropped onto the ground. He tried to scramble to his feet but a boot was placed on his shoulder. “Just sit tight, kid,” Cain said and Desmond looked around wildly. He was inside some machine, probably similar to a numia, but smaller, the size of a news helicopter. The back was the door that opened in a ramp that led down to the forest floor, and Desmond had been dropped onto the floor.

“Going to take me to the proeathans now?” he asked and was glad his voice didn’t shake. He didn’t want Cain to know how completely terrified he was right now. He didn’t want to go back. Going back wouldn’t be death, but he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t doubt that a tube would be in his future and who knew what else.

“Nope,” Cain removed his boot and went down the ramp.

Desmond frowned, “So what? Going to call them so they come collect me?”

“Nope,” Cain said again and Cain moved out of sight.

Desmond got to his feet slowly, testing his body for pain. He didn’t feel any. He made his way tentatively down the barely sloping ramp. Cain was crouched in front of the machine, elbows on his thighs, watching the jungle. He didn’t doubt for a moment Cain knew he was there. “Then what _are_ you going to do with me?” he asked.

“You’re bait,” Cain said without moving his head. “No doubt Abel’s Woken by now and is furious with me,” despite not being able to see Cain’s face, he heard his smile.

“So what… you’re not even going to keep me captive?” Desmond was horribly unimpressed with the hunter.

“You leave the area I lock you in there and go kill the girl. I’ll make it as painful as possible,” Desmond swallowed at how calm Cain was, how assured he was that Desmond wouldn’t disobey him. Desmond wouldn’t, not with the risk to put Lucy in danger. He knew she could take care of herself, he never questioned that. But against Cain? Cain had just killed Altair. She was tough, but she was no match for him.

“I won’t leave,” Desmond said and sat on the ramp.

“Good boy,” he could hear Cain’s smile still.

They sat in silence for a long time. Desmond trying, and failing, to find an alternative to his situation, some way he could get out without relying on Altair to come save him. But he couldn’t. It was rather pathetic. There was nothing he could do that wouldn’t put himself, or Lucy, in danger.

“What do you want?” Desmond asked, at least an hour had passed.  Cain didn’t move. “What are the proeathans giving you to make you turn on your own species?”

Cain didn’t answer, and the silence stretched long enough that Desmond was sure he wouldn’t. “Humans had a good run,” Cain said thoughtfully, “But its time to move on. Abel and I didn’t survive for so long because we refused to change. He knows that, I know that. You change, or you get left behind.”

“So…. What? You want to be relevant?”

Cain chuckled darkly, “Kid, you have _no_ idea who I am. Abel doesn’t even know. I’m older than you can even comprehend.”

“Try me,” Desmond swallowed.

Cain finally turned and looked at him, “I witness one of Gautama Buddha’s sermons,” and Desmond had a hard time believing that. Cain stood slowly and walked towards him. “I was old when Byzantium was new, ancient when Romulus and Remus fought like wolves over their pitiful city. I saw the first walls of of the Great Wall in China. I walked beside Jesus and sailed with Oceanic people to the New World before the vikings were anything more than squabbling pirates.” Desmond pushed back as Cain kept coming towards him, looming like a colossus. He reached down and grabbed Desmond’s shoulder, hard and Desmond looked up at him, terrified of those cold, blue, eyes. “I am infinite and ancient and when people would say my name it was only in secret, or with awe. I am a god,” Desmond winced when Cain squeezed his shoulder tight enough to hurt and make him see stars. 

“Abel is a _stupid boy_ if he thinks he can compare to me. To think that he can lock up a _god_ and not face the consequences.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re helping the proeathans,” Desmond said, his fear making his breath come short. “If humanity dies, no one will give a _shit_ about you. You’ll just be a pet for them.”

“The proeathans gave me what I wanted.”

“Which was?” Desmond had a feeling he knew.

“One was revenge. I’m going to wring suffering out of my brother until he begs me to make it quick.”

“And two?” he asked Cain shakily.

Cain smiled at him and released the iron grip on Desmond’s shoulder. He reached up to massage it, he was going to bruise there, he knew it. Cain patted his shoulder with surprising gentleness, “That would be my business, boy,” Cain said. “Now you stay here and let the adults work it out,” and he turned and walked out of the aircraft.

Desmond lay on the ground, his heart was racing. He’d honestly only been that scared a few times in his entire life. Cain was terrifying and if what he’d said was true, and not just his insanity breaking his mind, it meant that he was far, _far,_ more dangerous than they originally thought.

“Cain!” Desmond sat up at the voice. Altair!

“Well, hello brother!” Cain called back and Desmond scrambled to his feet. “Come to rescue the boy?” he had his arms out on either side of him.

Altair stood just outside the jungle, his throat was still covered in blood, but he was alive. “Yes. Now let him go before you piss me off old man,” and Desmond had flashbacks of Altair facing off against Rashid. He’d been so angry then, fueled by a righteous rage, as he was now.

Cain laughed, “Come now Abel, no need for such talk.”

“And my name isn’t Abel, I am not your brother. Not anymore,” Altair seemed to stand a little taller as he said that.

Cain dropped his arms, “Whither you want to or not,” he said, “You will always be my brother, Altair,” Cain said, and he sounded, not hurt, but more like he’d dropped a facade. “More than those idiots you call family will ever be. We both know that.”

“No,” Altair growled, “You’re crazy. You lost your _mind_ in that jail-

“Then who’s fault is that!?” Cain thundered, and Altair stopped. “If I’m crazy who’s fault does that lay to? Mine? I didn’t ask for that prison.”

“No but you deserved it after what you did,” Altair yelled back.

“I killed some whores, brother. Who cares about whores?”

“And you would have moved on to other women next, and then children. Don’t forget Cain, I saw what you would become. I saw the future.”

“And didn’t you always attempt to lecture me that the future is not set?” Cain demanded. “Perhaps if it didn’t take me killing a bunch of useless whores who looked like your dead wives to get your attention we wouldn’t be in this mess.”  Cain staggered back suddenly and Desmond tried to get a better look at what was going on. A knife had appeared in Cain’s chest, in his shoulder. Altair had missed, but he was breathing heavy, furious.

Cain looked back at Desmond, “Your Altair doesn’t like it when he’s wrong,” he said and pulled the knife from his chest with nothing more than a wince. “Or being reminded all the times,” Cain threw the knife back, Altair dodged, “He’s tried, and failed, to have a mortal life. Theres blood on your hands brother, and you keep trying to wash it off,” he taunted Altair.

“Better than soaking in it,” Altair hissed at him.

“C’mon now, show me you didn’t waste all those centuries away from me getting dull,” and Cain beckoned him. “You got your free shot, don’t make me wait. You know I hate waiting.”

“Must have been torture for you then, waiting to die all those times,” Altair growled.

Cain grinned a little, “You have no idea. Now am I going to have to threaten the boy again or are you going to try?”

“Don’t touch him.”

“Then come on!” Cain yelled and Altair moved.

Desmond took a step back when they met. Altair tried to use his hidden blade but Cain grabbed his arm and he let Altair get a punch in. Cain rocked back but yanked the blade off his arm. “None of this,” Cain said and threw the blade end over end into the jungle, “Just us, Altair.”

“Just die, Cain,” Altair growled and punched him.

As they fought Desmond realized something. Cain was distracted. He didn’t know if Cain would win, or if Altair would, but he knew this might be his only chance. Cain had used Desmond to lure Altair here, and now that Altair was here, without the others, and alone, Cain didn’t have to worry about the others. If he killed Altair here all he’d have to do is wait for Altair to Wake and regain himself, eat maybe, and then they could fight again. There was a lot of unsaid between the two, and that was besides the fact that Cain wanted to kill Altair a lot.

Desmond looked around at the jungle. He had no idea where he was, or where Tikal was. He was alone. Even with Altair here Desmond knew he was alone. Altair had only killed Cain the two times with help of a car, and a gun. Though he hated to admit it, Desmond knew Altair couldn’t beat Cain. Not now, possibly not ever, unless Cain wanted Altair to win. Meaning Desmond was on his own.

This could be the plan though? It felt like a hair brained, stupid, Altair plan at least. He’d distract Cain and Desmond could get away. The more Desmond thought about it the more it seemed like _exactly_ the sort of plan Altair would come up with to deal with this situation.

Desmond walked down the ramp. Altair had Cain well and truly distracted at the front of the air craft, both of them trying to beat each other to death. Desmond went around to the other side of the craft and entered the jungle. When he couldn’t hear Cain and Altair hitting each other anymore he broke into as good a run as he could manage with the thick fauna. Just to get _away_.

It was like practicing on Hawk’s island with Clay. The dense woods. Desmond backtracked several times once he got tired of running and climbing over rocks and logs. Then with a grunt he started to climb a tree. He wasn’t the best climber, not like the others were, but they also had centuries of practice. But Desmond made it up to the jungle canopy, panting.

He had no idea which way to go, except which direction was back. He stayed up there for a few minutes, catching his breath, deciding which way he should go, before heading east, towards the approaching night, which was about as good a direction as any. The thick canopy allowed him to move rather easily and he wouldn’t leave a trail along the ground Cain could follow. Altair wouldn’t be able to follow it either though. How was he supposed to find Tikal? He had no idea. He might have just utterly fucked himself over with this harebrained idea. 

It didn’t help that he was getting hungry.


	51. Luzon

It was late when Desmond finally surcame to his exhaustion. He’d been moving hours but was sure now Cain, or Altair for that matter, weren’t following him. He’d since climbed down from the trees, it was too hard to move in the trees at night, and he was making enough noise to scare away any of the animals. He knew, from hunting in the Black Hills with his father and the other children at the Farm that big animals didn’t mess with you if you let them know you were bigger than them and let them know you were there. But it was still fairly slow going, and he was tired.

He came to a fairly large clearing and sighed, sagging against the a tree before sitting. His feet ached, his stomach growled, he was _starving_. Not in the true sense he guessed, but he hadn’t eaten since yesterday night and it was close to morning. He knew he needed to rest, rest and find something to eat when he woke up. Also water. He fell asleep against the tree.

—

Desmond woke up to yelling. His flight and fight response kicked because it wasn’t just yelling. It was yelling _at him_ in a language he didn’t know. He kicked out, a man screamed when Desmond snapped their knee.

More yelling as Desmond tried to get to his feet. The butt of a rifle hit his face and he crumpled. They hit him again for good measure and while he didn’t pass out, he wasn’t going to be getting up any time soon.

He groaned as the men, still yelling in a language that was vaguely romantic but what sort Desmond was too disorientated to tell, grabbed him up under his armpits. Two of them, and started to drag him forward.  Desmond just breathed and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

The clearing, which last night had looked empty, was full of tents. And people, talking, looking at him. He was brought to the other side of the camp to a tall, wooden, poll. Desmond knew what it was but he was too disorientated and he was bleeding from his face from the rifle butt to the face, and couldn’t stop them when they threw him against it and bound his hands behind his back around the post. Desmond groaned as he lay there on the ground, his arms twisted into an uncomfortable angle and looked up at three men pointing guns at him, yelling in what sounded like Spanish but could have been any similar language.

With a groan he forced himself to sit up. He was bleeding from his temple, and his lip and forehead and he was going to have two big bruises on his face later from this. At least they were human.

“No hab-“ Desmond tried, but the words were hard to get out of his mouth, he was still so tired and had just been beaten in the face. His brain wasn’t working right. “No hablar,” he tried again, hoping they at least understood his stupid Spanish. They continued yelling and Desmond just didn’t have the brain fortitude to deal with them.

Then someone, a much calmer someone, approached and got the men to stop yelling. Oh good. Desmond just hung his head trying to not get blood all over his clothes. The calm man crouched in front of him and Desmond looked up. There was recognition in his eyes, but Desmond didn’t know him. He was normal looking, brown hair, brown eyes, narrow face with proud cheekbones and a sliver for a nose. He looked like a less attractive, sun burned, version of Desmond honestly. “Hello, Desmond,” they said.

“How you know me?” Desmond asked and sucked blood to spit it off to the side.

“What? You don’t remember me?” he asked.

“Can’t say that I do. Who are you?”

“My name is William,” he said, “William Mattock, remember me now?”

“No,” Desmond grunted, “You must not be terribly important, since I tend to remember those. Or you were dick and I didn’t like you so I decided you weren’t worth remembering.”

William frowned, “You’re very rude.”

“I’m tied bleeding to a post for no fucking reason after being beaten in the face for, again, no fucking reason,” he spit a bit more blood that had collected in his mouth off to the side again. “Excuse me for not being so understandably pleasant.”

William still looked unimpressed then ran his hand through his hair and stood. He said something to the men with the guns and Desmond was being untied. He batted away their hands to help him stand, and pulled himself to his feet. Gingerly he touched his face and winced. He was covered in blood and his face hurt.

“Do you still possess the Apple?” William asked and Desmond froze.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“The Apple, do you have it?”

“If I did it certainly wouldn’t be any of your business. Who are you?” and he didn’t mean his name.

“We’re on your side Desmond, no need to be afraid.”

“I’ll be more likely to believe you if you told me who you people are.”

“We’re Assassins,” he said. “Part of what’s left of them at least. Now if you want to come with me you can clean your face.” And William walked off. Desmond followed because he liked the sound of that, and he couldn’t do much else.

“Is this all there is?” Desmond asked as he followed William into a tent. There was a cot, two sleeping bags, and a field desk and a first aid kit on it.

“All what?” William handed Desmond a clean towel.

“All the Assassins left?”

“No.”

“Who’s the commanding officer?” Desmond asked as he wiped the blood off his face, being mindful of the cuts and bruises.

“He isn’t here right now. He’ll be arriving tonight though.”

“Okay. Can you tell me how to get to Tikal?”

“Tikal? Why do you want to go to Tikal?”

“That’s my business,” Desmond winced when he pressed against a cut.

“I could. But until the Master and his team get here, you aren’t going anywhere.”

Desmond lowered the towel slowly, “Is that a threat?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” William said.

Desmond eyed him, “Whatever,” he dabbed at his temple, “Got bandages?”

“Here,” William handed him gauze and medical tape. It’d have to do. Desmond started to apply the medical bandages. “The Master will be very interested in you being here.”

“Sure they will,” Desmond said. “How do you know me?” he asked.

“Everyone important knows who you are,” William said, “And we met before. Before you disappeared, after your coma. In Germany, remember?”

“Right.” Desmond looked at William and went into Eagle Vision. William blazed as red as he had that day nearly six years ago. “You’re still a dick,” and he returned to taping his face up.

“And you’re a runaway delinquent, but I’m not holding that against you.”

Desmond snorted, “Wouldn’t be the worst thing someone held against me. There any food here? I’m starving.”

William’s mouth went thin and then he nodded, “This way,” and Desmond followed him out of the tent.

—

It was around dinner time when the ranking Master showed up. Desmond had spent the day sitting down, trying to make his headache go away. He knew they’d arrived because the camp suddenly swarmed with activity to prepare for their arrival.

Desmond didn’t move a fucking inch.

A few off road vehicles rolled up behind some tents, people got out. Desmond just waited, to see what would happen. He gently touched his face, as he had been all day, and winced like he had every other time. It still hurt. At least he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

He was caught up in inspecting his face he didn’t realize who was coming up to him until they were, quite literally, right in front of him.

“Well fuck me if I don’t have the worst luck,” Desmond said and stood up, because he’d never let himself be below Andrew ever again.

“Hello son, you look well,” his father said.

“Can’t say the same for you. You look like shit,” Desmond looked him over. Andrew was thinner than the last time they’d seen each other, his face aged dramatically, and there was significantly more white in his hair.

“Always a kind word for your father, then,” Andrew said.

“Just be happy Altair has more important people to kill so he can’t be here right now.”

Andrew frowned, “Unlike you I’m doing something important-

Desmond rolled his eyes, “Here we go again,” he sighed softly.

Andrew hadn’t heard, “Perhaps you’re not aware but the world has gone to hell Desmond. Wherever those men, one who you claim is Melik, took you those past five years it certainly didn’t do you any good if you’re still so disrespectful.”

“I was in a proeathan facility being poked full of needles, cloned seventeen times for five years and am currently the world’s most wanted man to history’s most powerful species on the planet,” Desmond said evenly and tipped his head to the side. “Pretty sure I got you beat on doing important shit, dad,” he said.

William hadn’t been expecting that. “You what?” and he sounded honestly surprised.

“Not important,” he waved his hand to knock the conversation away. “What are you people doing here?”

“We’re planning an attack on a proeathan base that popped up a few weeks ago.”

“A proeath- oh god. You idiots. That isn’t a proeathan base, that’s a proeathan communication array.”

“All the more reason to destroy it.”

“You won’t be able to,” Desmond actually laughed, “Oh wow that is hilarious,” he grinned at his father, “You’re so cute dad. Thinking you have any way to even scratch proeathan material. Thankfully Mercury isn’t occupied otherwise you’d be leading all these men to their deaths.”

Andrew wasn’t smiling, he looked absolutely _annoyed_ with Desmond. “Since when did you become such an authority?” Andrew asked.

“Five years is a long time,” Desmond said, “And I guarantee I know more about what’s going on than you do. You’re out of your depth old man. How many men have you killed with attacks like this?” Andrew didn’t answer. Desmond didn’t need one. The number wasn’t a number, it was just ‘a lot’ or ‘most’. “Exactly. So why don’t you stand down and let people who at least have _some_ idea of what’s going on do what needs doing.”

“You said you were in a proeathan facility for five years?” Andrew asked.

“Yes.”

“Cloned?”

“Seventeen times.”

Andrew looked at him for a long time, “Secure him, tie him to the post.”

“What!” Desmond cried when two men grabbed his arm, a third aimed a gun at his face.

“If there _are_ seventeen clones of my son in the world, how do I know you’re not one?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Desmond demanded and yanked on the arms holding them, they held him, but just barely. The gunman shifted his weapon. “Get that fucking thing out of my face before I feed it to you,” he snapped. They moved it closer to his head.

“I can’t afford any risks. A specialist will run a brain scan on you to determine if you are indeed my son,” Andrew said.

“No,” Desmond said.

“No? You aren’t in any position to argue,” Andrew said.

“I said; no,” and Desmond used the grip the men had on him to his advantage. He pulled his arms forward, across his chest, yanking them along the line of that motion. They hit each other in the forehead and fell to the ground, releasing Desmond as they did. Desmond took one step, grabbed the rifle and jerked it backwards, hitting the gunman right in the face. They cried out, clutching their face, and fell. Desmond flipped the gun around and held the stock against his shoulder, looking down the sight at his father’s head.

He heard guns cocking, “Everyone lower your weapons,” Desmond called. “I’m not above shooting the Mentor,” he didn’t look anywhere by Andrew. “Not like you don’t deserve it,” he said just to Andrew, sneering. “I said lower your fucking weapons! I am not in the fucking mood and I have someplace to be far more important than this rag tag group you call Assassins,” Desmond called.

“Its all right,” Andrew said. “Everyone put your guns down.”

“Sir, with all due respect-

“William, when I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. Now, weapons _down_ ,” and William relayed the order in whatever native language this place spoke. 

Weapons were lowered. “You too,” Andrew said softly.

“Lets get a few things clear right now, Andrew,” Desmond said. “One: I am not a clone. I’ve met him, he’s as big of a sad sack of shit as I am and probably hates you more than I do, but I am not a clone. Two: you won’t be running any tests or brain scans on me and if anyone tries to I will break their fucking hands and their machines. And three: I have somewhere _very_ important to be that doesn’t involve babysitting a bunch of baby Assassins. I need a map at the least, to get back to Tikal. If you insist on going there for Mercury, which poses no threat to humanity other than that if I don’t get there we’re all doomed, you’re taking me with you. Understand?”

“Crystal,” Andrew said.

“Good,” and Desmond lowered his weapon. “Now are you still going to Tikal?”

“Yes,” Andrew said.

“Okay. I’m coming with you.”

“We’re going to leave in a few days-

“No,” Desmond said, “Tomorrow. There’s no one to fight in Tikal. No proeathan legion you have to fight, no one to kill your men.”

“It isn’t that. My men need a few more days to finish clearing the road. Then we’ll be going,” Andrew said.

Desmond looked down and then in the general direction he knew Cain’s aircraft was. He still had no idea where he was, or how far from Tikal he was. Cain probably wouldn’t come. He was preoccupied with Altair. Hopefully at least. Hopefully Altair had killed him, at least once. “Okay,” Desmond said.

“Good, now give that to someone else so you don’t hurt anyone,” and while Desmond thought that was highly unlikely since he was better trained with guns than probably half the people here, he did surrender the rifle. Desmond sat again, now that the excitement was over. Everyone went back to what they should have been doing.

Desmond felt something trickle down his face and he reached up, his finger tips came away bloody. He cursed and was about to get up to change the gauze again, when he realized a woman was standing in front of him. She looked both the same, and yet different than the last time he saw her. Still couldn’t dress herself, and wore a horribly colored jump suit. Her black hair had been styled into a man’s style, and it stuck out at odd angles. She was missing her headphone he used to associate with her.

“Rebecca-

She slapped him on his not bleeding side. He stared at her, Rebecca was nonviolent. But right now she was angry enough to slap him. In fact, she did it a second time. He grabbed her wrist before she got any ideas to do it a third time. “Stop that,” he said.

“You selfish sonuvabitch,” and Desmond wasn’t aware Rebecca could swear either. “You make me worry for months, and then when we _finally_ see you again, you slip right away and are gone again.”

“Not the plan,” Desmond said, his only excuse.

“Couldn’t even trust us?” she asked, and by us she meant her and Shaun, who Desmond had a feeling was lurking around somewhere.

“I couldn’t trust anyone,” Desmond said. “Frankly, I still barely can, and I’m not one of those people.”

“One of what?”

“One of the people I can trust,” Desmond said. “So be mad if you want, but the world would be fucked up this bad even if I hadn’t left you guys in Germany. It probably would have been fucked sooner, even.”

“I don’t forgive you,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I don’t want your forgiveness,” though it would have been nice. “I just want this to be over.” And to forgive himself. He didn’t know if that would ever happen, but he could dream, couldn’t he? He released her wrist, “Now I need to go change these bandages,” and he stood, as usual, dwarfing her. She got out of his way and he headed for the tent with the medical supplies. Today literally just got better and _better._


	52. A Bleeding Heart

Desmond didn’t like having to stay in this place. He wanted to get going, to Tikal. His father kept telling him if he wanted a ride to the ruins he’d have to wait until the way was clear. As it was forty miles to Tikal Desmond just sucked it up, he didn’t want to walk all that way, through the jungle, alone. So he just made himself as unobtrusive as possible, kept out of the way, didn’t really talk to anyone. For the most part, people left him alone. William gave him the stink eye now and again, but Desmond was practically used to that because of Altair and the others.

It took three days for them to finish clearing the road that would lead to Tikal. They were leaving tomorrow morning and Desmond was about ready to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to go. The others were probably looking for him, and who knew if the others were Awake. He had no idea if Altair was still with Cain. So many variables. He needed to get back with the others, find out what had happened, what _was_ happening.

He was surprised when someone interrupted his after dinner thinking by sitting across from him at the field mess which was little more than a few rows of roughly made benches. Desmond focused. “Knew you’d come by eventually,” he said. Shaun was already older than him, and like his father the past five years had seemed to age him considerably. He could see the guilt of dozens or more dead because of his actions, his mistakes. His hair was lighter than last time, a streak of white coming in early from the strain and stress of his job.

“Hello to you too,” Shaun said. They sat in silence for a while.

“Going to be mad at me too, like Rebecca?” Desmond asked.

“Would it make a difference even if I was?” Shaun asked sharply. “Not like you seem to give a crap about any of us.”

“Sorry Shaun,” Desmond said, “I can only worry about so many people and since I’m currently worrying about _all of them_ , I can’t give you and Becca personal attention.”

Shaun sighed and ran his hand through his hair a few times, “I just… want to know _why_ ,” he said. “Why did you leave? You owe us that much at least. After Lucy and then we lost you,” Desmond had never heard Shaun so reserved before. He was without snark and Desmond knew just how hard the past five years had been on him. “And then the next time we saw you you wanted to see Andrew. Not us. We were your friends, Desmond.”

Desmond glanced down, taking a deep breath. “You were,” he agreed, looking back up. “But you were one of them-

“One of who Desmond? We were, and still are, with the Assassins. The good guys. And you ran away!”

Desmond chuckled, “You think the Assassins are the good guys?” he asked. “There are no good guys, Shaun,” he said. “There is _your side_ the _enemy_ and then everyone else. I ran because you weren’t on my side anymore.”

“We were,” Shaun said, “Me and Becca both were.”

“Maybe. But the Assassins weren’t.”

Shaun breathed deeply through his nose, “Tell me where you went. After you left Germany. We deserve to know.”

“Its a long story,” Desmond said.

Shaun looked at his watch, “We have plenty of time. We don’t leave till tomorrow morning. Now tell me.”

Desmond sighed and rubbed his neck, “Okay. I just want you to know that what I’m going to tell you is going to seem absolutely _impossible_.”

“More so than an advanced species waking after millions of years and enslaving humanity?” Shaun asked and Desmond snorted, there was the snark. At least Shaun hadn’t lost all of it.

“Yes,” Desmond said, still grinning a little. “But it didn’t start in Germany, it started in Monteriggioni. I was out one night, to get some air-

—

By the time Desmond was finished Shaun’s eyes were wide, he looked completely and utterly dumb struck. Desmond had only told him up to seeing him again in New York, but nothing about Pluto or the proeathans, or his role in it all. Shaun had interrupted only a few times to ask for clarifications of things. Things like Jake and Clay, and that it was indeed _Altair_ and _Ezio_ he was with, and the nature of their immortality. Otherwise he was just quiet and listened to what Desmond had to say. It was probably the longest amount of time Desmond could ever remember Shaun _not_ talking.

“And that’s it?” Shaun asked.

“That’s what happened between the times you saw me, yes,” Desmond said. Shaun said nothing, but looked like he was _burning_ with questions. “What?”

“And that’s it?” Shaun cried, “What about the last five years?” he demanded.

“That is an entirely different story and I am _way_ too tired for that,” Shaun groaned at that. “What?”

“So you went off and had a right adventure without us,” Shaun said, and he seemed wistful, sad even. “Should have known,” he looked down a bit, licking his lips.

“Wasn’t all fun,” Desmond said, “I had the Templars after me. And _now_ I have the proeathans after me and… and a fucking _god_.”

“What?”

“Ahg, shouldn’t have said that,” Desmond said.

“Well you did,” Shaun said, actually rather eagerly. Desmond should have known a giant nerd like Shaun would be all into first hand resources of an event.

“Later okay,” Desmond waved him off, “Seriously my mouth’s all dry and my throat hurts,” Shaun looked like he wanted to say to hell with Desmond’s dry mouth, but restrained himself.

“Fine. You _owe me_ the rest though,” he told Desmond firmly.

“All right,” Desmond sighed, “but, you have to get Rebecca to not hate me. I did what I had to do.”

“You could have _told us_ , but yes,” Shaun agreed. “And she isn’t as mad as you think she is, she’s just hurt. I’ll make her come around.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said, “Oh and, I think she might like to hear this.”

“What?” Shaun asked.

“Lucy’s alive,” and Shaun’s face went slack.

“But we buried her,” Shaun said, “Well… Abstergo buried her,” and that seemed to piss him off.

“After what I told you,” Desmond said, “Do you really think anyone can just die in this world?” he asked.

Shaun looked torn between what he knew, and what he Desmond was telling him and wanted to believe. “I guess,” he admitted. Shaun looked at his watch again, for the first time in some time, “Its pretty late, we should go to bed.”

“Good idea,” Desmond said and they both groaned as they got to their feet. “Thank you,” he told Shaun.

“For what?” Shaun asked.

“For listening,” he held his hand out to Shaun. Shaun looked at it a moment and the grabbed it, shaking it firmly, like they were old friends meeting again after being separated for a long time and not barely more than strangers thrown together again under dire circumstances. “And for believing me, since I doubt anyone else here would.”

“Well to be fair, mate, it is all rather spectacular. Immortality and all that.”

“Just part of the perks,” Desmond smirked and released Shaun’s hand. And with that they separated, as they both slept in different places. Desmond slept soundly for the first time since he’d arrived.

—

It was late morning, Desmond was sitting in the back of a jeep, having taken up the entire back, and they were moving. The way wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t fast either. The ‘road’ was more a dirt path they’d hacked through the jungle. Maybe once it had been a more traveled dirt road, well maintained, but now it was jungle floor. There were pot holes and the trees had barely been fully cleared. Branches snapped against the jeep’s frame as they progressed at about ten miles per hour. Not the fastest, but it was a lot faster than Desmond could walk.

Desmond was looking at his hands. The glyphs had been coming back since they’d left Pluto, but he’d always been wearing gloves, he even wore them in his sleep. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The people in the front, William and his father, weren’t paying him any attention, so he was free to inspect himself. They were up his arms and starting on his chest and unlike before Pluto they blazed brightly, not dimming and not changing positions. He still had no idea what they were, what they meant, what they were supposed to _do_. No one seemed to know, they just spelled the end of the world. His _existence_ spelled the end of the world. It was a sobering thought.

All at once the line of cars stopped and Desmond looked up and pulled his gloves back on. They were in the big clearing of Tikal. Desmond stood up and put his hands on the roll cage. “Desmond, sit down,” his father said sternly.

“Wow,” he said, he hadn’t been expecting the huge, black, tower that had ripped apart an ancient Mayan pyramid. It was as big as a skyscraper, or seemed like to him, and the pyramid had been shoved aside and lay in a pile around it. They’d landed as it was getting dark and hadn’t gone exploring the first night, Desmond had been _slightly_ preoccupied that night. Thinking about it distracted him for a moment. But it was why he hadn’t seen the tower till now. The numia had to be close though.

Desmond swung out of the jeep. “Desmond!” Andrew cried, “Get back here, its dangerous.”

“Then stay there,” he called back and kept walking. He got around to the other side of the huge pillar and saw the numia, sitting there, the door open. He didn’t know if anyone was inside. He cupped his hands to his mouth, “Flash!” and he lowered his hands a bit.

A few seconds passed, Desmond was about to call again when a head stuck out of the numia. He smiled and lowered his hands, “Desmond!” Lucy cried and raced down the steps. Desmond didn’t run but he did walk quickly to close the space between them. 

He grabbed her up when she was in reach and hugged her tightly, she squeezed him back tightly. “Oh thank god you’re okay,” she cried, still holding onto him.

“For the most part,” Desmond said, releasing her so she could see his face properly. He had a new little scar on his forehead and was still all bruised from getting beaten in the face by the rifle butt. At least he didn’t have a shiner.

“What happened?” she asked, touching the good side of his face. 

“I’ll tell you, promise, now where are the others? They Awake?”

She nodded, “A-Altair put Jake’s head on the right way before he left, he Woke the next day. Ezio and Hawk woke up today and wanted to go look for you.”

“Did they?” Desmond asked.

She shook her head, “Altair told me to make sure ‘those idiots don’t wander off while I’m gone no matter how much they want to’. So I told them to stay.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Desmond said.

“C’mon, the others’ll want to see you,” and she pulled him back towards the numia. Desmond climbed aboard after her and was instantly swept up into Ezio’s bone crushing hug.

“Ahg! Ezio, put me down! Oh god that huuurts,” he cried because Ezio was squeezing him tightly, and he felt his spine pop. Though he might have been being a bit over dramatic about the whole thing.

Ezio did release him though, but he barely had time to breathe before a shorter form was hugging him and Desmond realized it was Hawk. Hawk who didn’t touch, was hugging him. It was weirdly comforting. Hawk didn’t hug him as long or as hard as Ezio did, and extracted himself from Desmond shortly. He suddenly felt winded. “You going to hug me too?” he asked Jake blandly.

“Naw, that’s too gay for me,” Jake grinned at him. Desmond gave him a look, Jake just grinned wider.

“So now that that’s out of the way,” Desmond said, “where’s Altair?”

“Hopefully on his way back,” Hawk said. “Lucy told us he went to fight Cain, where he is now… we have no idea. But we told him you’re here, alive.”

Desmond didn’t tell them Altair couldn’t kill Cain, not without a prayer, or a miracle. They could fight for an eternity and it would always be the same. Cain was older, stronger, and insane. No way Altair could win against that. “Lets hope he gets here soon. In the meantime… we have incoming.”

“Come again?” Hawk asked.

“I ran into Assassins, they brought me here. My… father’s here.”

Ezio swore and put his hand to his head, “How many?”

“Few dozen. They expected a fight, they thought this was a proeathan base.”

“Well it is,” Hawk said, “but an empty one.”

“So I told them,” Desmond sighed, “But fact is we have Assassins here and none of them know about you,” well except Shaun, but that’d come out later he was sure. “Well, that you exist, but not _who_ or _what_ you are.”

“Damnit.”

“So what do we do?” he asked.

“I’d say move,” and Jake pushed them out of the way, “They’re outside,” and he jumped down from the numia. They were standing just outside, not a few staring at the numia like it was the most amazing thing they’d ever seen. “Hello, I’m Jake Nasir, don’t stare it’s just a proeathan plane, nothing fantastic,” he offered Andrew his hand.

Andrew stared at it a moment and then shook it. He looked up the gangway at Desmond in the doorway, “At least someone’s courteous here-

“To be fair you were going to force a brain scan on me,” Desmond said.

“Andrew Miles,” Andrew wasn’t paying attention to Desmond now.

 “Crow, don’t play so buddy buddy,” Hawk frowned at him.

Jake turned to Hawk, “Altair’s on his way. We can play nice until he gets here. What’s the worse they can do? Kill us?” Hawk gave him an unimpressed look.

“Are you in charge, Jake?” Andrew asked.

Jake snorted, “I wish,” he said, “I’m just a voice of reason. Now please put your guns down, we mean you no harm-

“And if we did your guns wouldn’t help,” Ezio slid from around Desmond and two men actually dropped their guns in absolute shock. Ezio was a legend in the Order, and unlike Altair his appearance was well documented by painters during the renaissance including Leonardo da Vinci. “Stand down,” and those who’d been raised in the Order hesitated, but did stand down.

“My god,” Andrew breathed, staring at Ezio like he was indeed looking at a god. Desmond had never seen such awe in his father’s face.

“Oh this is amusing,” Ezio said, looking back up at them with a devious grin, “Now I see why the proeathans do it.”

“Are you really- but you should be…” Andrew was trying to find words.

“You all can bask in my radiance later,” Ezio said, fully eating it up. “Right now I need to know what you’re doing here.”

Andrew blinked, realizing he needed to get his shit together. “We were investigating and planning an attack on this location. But well, there’s nothing here… sir?” Andrew didn’t know what to quite do in front of Ezio and Desmond slowly realized his dad was trying his hardest to not fanboy over the immortal. It was amusing.

“Correct,” Ezio said, “So… go back.”

“Excuse me?” Andrew blinked.

“You heard me. Go back. Go anywhere else. You aren’t needed or welcome here, boy,” and the respect Andrew had for Ezio evaporated. 

“Come again,” Andrew said.

“You heard me Andy,” Ezio said flatly, “You aren’t welcome here. You just screw everything up. Now take your toy men and leave, this is beyond what you can comprehend.”

Andrew looked from Ezio, up to Desmond, “I assume this is your doing?”

“Mine? Oh that’s _rich_ dad,” Desmond said sarcastically. “And slightly encouraging you think I would encourage someone as stubborn and bullheaded as Ezio. You should listen to him though, finally someone who’s older and wiser than you giving you some good advice.”

“And you’ll want to leave before Altair returns,” Ezio added. “I doubt you forgot your last meeting. Still hard to breathe sometimes?” and Andrew went very still. “Yeah, you need to go.”

“We deserve to know what’s going on,” Andrew said.

“Sorry, but you don’t,” Ezio said, “Because you still have this preconceived idea of _good_ and _evil_. But something you need to realize here Andrew,” and Ezio poked his father on the chest. “To us, you are evil.”

“Just a heads up,” Jake suddenly said, “He’s here.”

“Who’s here?” Andrew asked.

“Oh this’ll be fun,” Ezio sighed.

“How’d he get here so quick?” Hawk asked, “We sent the comm like ten minutes ago.”

The answer to all the questions was answered by a high pitched whirring noise and a second later Cain’s aircraft came into view. Desmond swallowed. “You sure that’s him?” he asked.

“Should be,” Jake said slowly and they all watched it land. “If the man that comes out of that craft isn’t an Arab; shoot him,” Jake said.

“Why?” Andrew asked.

“Because otherwise he’s going to kill all of you, and enjoy it when he does,” Desmond said. Guns were raised as the craft landed between the numia and the pillar, the whirling stopped.

The ramp in the back lowered and they all heard the boot steps. Desmond hung back a bit, Hawk had poked his head out from under Desmond’s arm. Then a figure came into view.

Altair looked tired, and he was completely covered in blood, nearly head to toe. Blood streaked his face, his neck, was splattered across his shirt and pants, and was crusted on his boots. In his left hand he was holding something. He looked at the people in front of him. “Oh don’t say I have to kill you too?” he asked in a worn voice.

“Altair!” Jake called and waved, so Altair could see him above the heads of the Assassins.

“Ah, you’re Awake, good,” and Altair walked towards them. The Assassins parted around him, like they were afraid to get near. “I bought us some time,” he said and that was when Desmond really noticed what was hanging off of Altair’s hand.

“Is that-

“Holy shit,” Ezio said.

“Cain,” Desmond breathed. Altair was holding Cain’s head by the hair, lifeless eyes staring at nothing and everything. No wonder the Assassins hadn’t wanted to get near him.

“He’ll be back,” Altair said, still sounding tired. “Like he always said; can’t kill what doesn’t actually die,” and he dropped it on the ground. Altair followed it and fell to his knees and then he was lying on his back. “Wake me up in a few hours,” he said and then that was it. He was asleep.


	53. Zu

Desmond sat in the pilot’s seat of the numia, his legs kicked out, looking out the big front window. The Assassins were camped out away from the numia, not welcome near them and certainly not _in_ the aircraft. Ezio had since moved Altair inside, the ancient hadn’t moved when Ezio had transported him from the grass to a chair, and then sealed the numia. It had taken the Assassins about an hour to give up on trying to open the door and went to set up camp.

Desmond was watching them, fist loosely propped up against his cheek. The sun was setting, and they were giving Altair a good chance to rest. They’d also left Desmond alone when he’d come in here by himself and closed the door after him.

They shouldn’t be here. They could, potentially, ruin everything. Large groups of humans were dangerous. Desmond hadn’t forgotten about the Eden Eyes, devices Hawk had around his island that had the express purpose of seeing humans over vast distances and to some degree _through_ matter. He didn’t doubt the proeathans had some too. How many he didn't know. But if there were humans in large groups it meant only one thing to the proeathans: resistance. Who knew if the proeathans knew they were here, or if they would find them, but the more of them there were, the more likely that was. It was why they’d moved across the landscape with relative ease before. Desmond and his ancestors only numbered six in total. There were a few dozen Assassins out there though. A few dozen more people who could die simply by being near him.

He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair thinking. They’d have to make a move on Mercury tonight, soon, hopefully as soon as Altair Woke. To wait was an invitation of failure, Desmond knew that.

As he sat there the dream he’d had a few nights ago leaked back into his mind. He remembered what Pluto had said. The proeathans were tracking him. Tracking _him_. Not Lucy, not anyone else. Him. And they were doing it in his sleep. It made him angry. As far as he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent them from tracking him. Pluto had said Altair could alter the block on his mind. But Altair was asleep and they had no workable Apple. They were helpless. He squeezed the arm of the chair. 

He hated that. He _hated_ being helpless.

The cockpit door slid open, “Little Bird,” Hawk said, Desmond looked behind him, “He’s awake.”

“Coming,” Desmond said and heaved himself out of the chair. Night had almost fallen now, the sky indigo and magenta, the sun a burnt orange fireball half covered by the trees. He walked back into the body of the numia.

Altair was sitting in a chair, awake, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the others were gathered around. Jake was sitting in the chair next to him, Lucy leaning on the arm of the seat on the other side of the aisle, and Hawk and Ezio were standing. Desmond joined Hawk and Ezio around Altair. “How long?” Altair yawned.

“Six hours,” Ezio said.

“Good enough,” Altair shook himself a little and stood, stretching. “What’s the situation, and who were those people?”

“Assassins,” Desmond said, “Led by my father.”

“Oh goodie, Andy’s here to fuck everything up _yet again_ ,” Altair sighed and shook himself out. “Tell me, do I look as shitty as I feel?”

“You’re covered in blood, I’d say so,” Hawk said.

“Damn,” he rubbed his face, which Desmond noted was clear of blood. Someone must have cleaned his face and hands. “So Assassins are here. Templars?”

“Negative,” Ezio said.

“Proeathans?”

“Negative.”

“Cain?”

“Negative.”

“Well that’s something at least.”

“How’d you do it?” Desmond asked him.

“How’s I do what?”

“Kill him,” Desmond said. Altair looked at him and he saw what Desmond knew, what they both knew, Altair _shouldn’t_ have been able to kill Cain. He wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t skilled enough. “Luck,” he said. “Doesn’t matter how I killed him. Fuck do we have any food? I am literally starving.”

“Yeah,” Hawk went and found some and dropped it in Altair’s lap. “How many times you go Under?”

“I don’t know,” Altair said. “Suffocated a few times in a row, lost track,” he tore open one of the MREs Pluto had stocked them with. Food far better than they’d had in a long time, full of all the carbs, calories, and vitamins they needed for an entire day. Altair ate what looked like slices of chicken with his hands as he talked. “So what next? We have a plan of action or were you all twiddling your thumbs till I got back?”

“I examined the base of the tower,” Hawk said, “there’s no entrance. I think we need Desmond to look.”

“So has he?” Altair looked at Desmond.

“Ezio closed the numia, no one in or out, since you got back,” Desmond said.

“We didn’t need a thousand stupid questions from a bunch of self important jackoffs,” Ezio said.

“Fair enough,” Altair moved onto the next MRE. One should have kept them fed all day, but the Waking hunger was more than hunger.

“Once you’ve changed, we’ll see what Desmond can see,” Hawk said. “Most likely its been like every other time and we need his special eyes to see whatever it is marks the entrance.”

“Man you’d think you’d be sick of being a special snowflake about now, huh Des,” Jake said.

“Trust me, I am,” Desmond sighed and folded his arms over his chest.

“Good plan,” Altair said. “What do we do about the Assassins?”

“Ignore them, like we have been the entire time,” Ezio said.

“Knowing Andrew, he’ll be watching us, as soon as we do something, he’ll know,” Altair tossed the second empty MRE away to pick up a third. “And probably try and stick his nose in our business.”

“Then I’ll just stick my blade up his nose,” Ezio said and Altair snorted.

“Good idea,” Altair grinned.

“If we go out when its dark they won’t see us,” Desmond said.

“True,” Altair said.

“How do you feel?” Hawk asked.

“Better now,” Altair had finished the third MRE in record time. “Repeated Wakings without in between seem to have no real effects on hunger. Body just recycles what’s in it from the initial Waking.”

“I’ll add the information to what we know then,” and clearly it was an ongoing experiment Hawk had been running on the nature of their immortality. 

“You said you bought us time,” Lucy said. “Will Cain really come back? He lost his head,” she frowned.

“Once,” Altair swallowed the last of the third MRE, “Ezio got into the French aristocracy in a bad way,” he licked his fingers. “Around the time of the French Revolution-

“Spare them the fluff, Altair.”

Altair smirked at him, “You’re just embarrassed,” he teased, “Story for another time. Long story short, he ended up under a guillotine for something. Head came off and he was buried. Me and Hawk dug him up and waited to see what would happen. Took like… what?” he looked at Hawk.

“I think we timed it at three months,” Hawk said thoughtfully.

“Three months, but his big, empty, head-

“Altair,” Ezio growled.

“Came back, fully intact. Memory was fine, motor skills worked just fine,” Altair stood up with a groan and grabbed Ezio by the hair, pulling his head back. “Its the only mark I’ve ever seen made on an immortal that lasted,” he said and pointed at Ezio’s throat. Desmond squinted, but saw nothing.

“What is it?” Jake asked, “Cause all I see is Altair’s dumb neck.”

Ezio finally batted Altair’s hand away. “There’s a _seem_ where his head got chopped off,” Altair said. “Extreme injury does effect us, though not to the extent of mortals obviously. Ezio here took three months to regrow his head,” he patted Ezio’s shoulder. “At Cain’s rate of regeneration, we might have three weeks.”

“Fuck,” Jake said.

“If we’re lucky,” Altair said. “He regenerated from having his chest blown open in three days. Its not like losing his head, but clearly his regeneration abilities are far quicker than ours,” he frowned.

“So we have time,” Desmond said, “And probably not enough no matter how much stress you put on the body,” he frowned.

“Have you tried burning him?” Jake asked, “Like, cremated.”

“Doesn’t work very well,” Altair said, “humans can deal with burns on their own well enough. When we go Under the body starts the healing immediately and if something is actively degrading the body you regenerate _faster_.”

“You know this how?” Jake asked.

Ezio and Altair both looked at Hawk, “You don’t want to know,” Hawk said.

“Fuck apparently not,” Jake said.

“Now,” Altair said, “I’m going to change and then we’re going to get into Mercury and, hopefully, get closer to ending this.” Altair found his bag and went into the bathroom, to maybe try and get rid of some more of the blood, and to change.

“The proeathans are tracking us through my dreams,” Desmond said when a brief silence fell.

Everyone turned and looked at him, “What?” Jake asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Desmond said. “Altair said the proeathans have to be tracking us. They are. They’re tracking _me_ , not Lucy like he thought.”

“But how?” Hawk asked.

“Remember how Clay said he sometimes had dreams, of the AIs visiting him in his sleep,” Hawk nodded, “Like that. Venus usually visits me, or she did,” he glanced at Lucy. “A few days ago Pluto was there and he told me they’re tracking me through something called ‘REM interfacing’, or something. He mentioned it back at the temple when he asked if I’d had any weirdness going on since my coma six years ago. He said it wasn’t important.”

“So he was lying,” Ezio growled.

“I think more he didn’t realize they could do that,” Desmond frowned. “Every time Venus did it, it was contained, and restricted, I knew that. This time though… it was different. Something happened since I went to Pluto,” he tugged off his glove, “Five bucks says it has to do with this shit, which- in case you were wondering- is already on my chest, spreading faster than before, and it isn’t going away.”

“What did Pluto do?” Hawk asked.

“Uh…” he thought a moment, “Something about… stabilizing the proteins in my body that correspond with the glyphs… or something. I’m not good at the tech stuff. But he said they were stabilized, they won’t change position.”

Hawk rubbed his forehead, “I have no idea,” he admitted. “Honestly, a lot of this stuff is way out of my league to the point of fantasy. I fucking hate fantasy because there is no logical explanation, there is just faith, and fucking bullshit ‘magic’,” Hawk looked annoyed.

“Clarke’s Law,” Lucy said.

“Who’s law?” Jake asked.

“He was a British writer, but you could apply his Laws here. His most well known is: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. We see magic, because what we’re looking at is _so_ beyond our scope of understanding. So beyond _proeathan_ understanding. These people are _afraid_ of some bioluminance marks on Desmond’s skin and think it heralds the end of days. Its no less than any of our religions. Magic.”

“But you think this… whatever this is, has an actual scientific explanation?” Hawk asked.

“Of course,” she said. “We just don’t understand it. Genetic memory walks the line of science fiction and ‘magic’, but its real. Everyone told Vidic it was a pipe dream, impossible and unmarketable at that. But When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.”

“You just quoted something did you?” Jake narrowed his eyes at her, “You have that annoying smug look you get when you quote something smart. I fucking hate it.”

Lucy grinned, “Clarke’s first law,” she said. “Vidic was right. And Hawk you’re a science guy, you saying this can’t have an explanation?”

“Fucking magic,” Hawk said and crossed his arms.

“Says the unexplainable immortal who has no, actual, way of dying and can regenerate infinite amount of times. Your problem isn’t that, but rather my glow,” Desmond snorted.

“At least my immortality is consistent and testable,” Hawk said sternly, “And not a singular case. It can happen to _anyone_. But you… What the hell is going on at your cellular level to make you like this Little Bird? What the hell is going on?”

“Hopefully Mercury will be able to help us get answers,” Altair said. He was dressed and had seemingly been standing there for a few minutes. “And if not him, then other others. Now, lets go,” and he went and opened the door of the numia.


	54. Marabou

It was warm out at night, despite being December, and despite the ice age. The moon was out, and in the clearing there was enough light for Jake and Lucy to see without aid. The tower was like a towering monolith, huge and unknowable, and while the moon turned everything silver it didn’t touch the tower, silver sliding off of it leaving it a void in the darkness. Desmond went into Eagle Vision as they neared. “What do you see?” Altair asked.

“Nothing, yet,” Desmond and focused. He knew he needed to do the thing where his vision cleared of Eagle Vision, seeing beyond it, but it wasn’t something he could do at will like Eagle Vision.

“Well see it quickly, we have incoming,” Ezio said.

“Fuck,” Desmond tried harder. He didn’t know how to make it happen though.

“Desmond-

“I’m _trying_ ,” he snapped and then all at once his vision cleared and he saw in perfect night vision. The shadows cleared, he could see without the haze of Eagle Vision. “Got it,” and he craned his head back. In this sight the tower was… _magnificent_. It was like Morpheus’ chamber in Solomon’s temple, covered in symbols, only unlike Morpheus’ the tower was covered in natural symbols. Shapes of animals in a minimalist style mapped out in twisting lines and curved light, spiraling around the tower. “I wish you could see this,” Desmond said.

“See what?”

His eyes snapped down and he realized they weren’t alone. The others had gathered around him, like a barrier, but Desmond looked over their shoulders. It was just three people, and somehow he knew they’d come. Shaun was the one who’d asked though.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Altair said.

“And you should be?” Andrew asked, a flashlight was passed over them. Desmond hissed and looked away, covering his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Currently seeing fucking spots, put that out you’re ruining my vision,” Desmond growled. The flashlight was clicked off. Desmond uncovered his eyes, he could still see in the dark vision, which was something at least.

“You know what this tower is for?” Shaun asked.

“Yes,” Altair said.

“What is it then?”

“A communication array,” Desmond said, “Now everyone do shut up, I can’t focus with all the talking,” and to his surprise everyone was indeed quiet.

Desmond looked back up at the tower, focusing now on what he had to do. Nothing seemed different, still the animals mixed in with the glyphs. An idea tugged on his mind and he took off one of his gloves. He heard one of them, unthinkingly, ask about Desmond’s hand, but Desmond wasn’t paying attention. He climbed up over the rubble of the destroyed temple that had once stood over the tower, and pressed his hand to the glossy black surface.

The tower pulsed a teal glow that was apparently visible to everyone because he heard someone give a start of surprise. The shapes rearranged themselves as Desmond watched, unwinding and starting to curve differently, curve _directionally_.

“I think I found something,” Desmond called down from the rubble.

“What is it?” Hawk called back.

“Directional lines,” and he kept his hand on the tower when he could, looking for where the lines all converged. His hand left behind a glowing, blue, smear, on the tower’s surface. He stumbled a little, moving over the rubble and then he saw it. All the lines were pointing one place. To an area about as big as his hand like a multi armed star. There was just one problem, the place he was supposed to go was about ten feet above his head.

“Find it?” Altair called since Desmond had stopped and was scowling at the space like it was their fault he was so short.

“Yeah, ten feet up,” Desmond called back down and removed his hand from the surface. He thought about how he could get up there. He could stand on someone’s shoulders probably. Maybe. 

Or he could climb.

He looked at the sheer surface of the tower and pulled his other glove off, placing both of them on the tower, just to see what would happen. Nothing remarkable happened but Desmond could see now that the tower wasn’t sheer. Looking straight up at the tower he saw it wasn’t straight either. Rather the tower was _curved_. For some reason he thought of the Parthenon in Greece, he remembered reading about it on one of the times he’d gone into a library because he had nothing better to do, that nearly all the lines of columns that looked straight were in fact curved. Meaning that the tower was made of segments.

Desmond reached up, seeking a lip. After a few moments of searching he found, not a lip, but what felt like a hand hold. When he looked up to see just what he was grabbing onto he saw it looked like an indentation where two pieces fit together. Meaning there had to be other places. He took his hands off and looked lower, to find a foot hold. The tower was made of many, many, small segments, obviously to help with the building, and Desmond found a few small indents at around chest high level. Perfect. He reached back up and found the first holds and with a grunt he lifted himself off the ground.

“Desmond!” Someone called as he put his weight on the narrow holds. They were about three feet away from each other, meaning the next set should also be three feet away. He groped above him blindly and found it. Making sure he had a grip he pulled himself up to the third set. When he looked at where the lines were pointing he saw he was one set away. He found the next set and pulled himself upwards.

“Desmond get down from there!” he looked down, his ancestors were gathered around beneath him. It wasn’t very far, but he saw them all very worried.

“I’m fine,” he told them, “The opening is right here,” he pointed and pressed his hand to where the lines converged. Here there was another hole, and he cursed. A key. They needed a fucking key. Pluto should have mentioned that. Unless they already had the key? He groped around the hole, feeling it. It was about as big as a large grapefruit, and perfectly spherical.

“Well?” Altair called up.

Desmond looked down, “Hawk,” he said, “Throw me your Apple.”

“What?” Hawk asked.

“Throw me your Apple. Its like the Vault, it needs a key.”

“Right,” and Hawk produced his Apple. “Catch,” and he lobbed it up towards Desmond. Desmond caught it, fumbled it, and then caught it again, leaning back away from the the tower to catch it. He heard the immortals below him make a few sudden, startled and worried sounds.

“Fine, fine, I got it,” Desmond said, though his heart was racing. He fit the Apple into the hole. The tower pulsed again and to everyone’s surprise made a brief bell tone. It reminded Desmond of Pluto. “See anything down there?” Desmond asked.

“A hole opened up three feet to your left,” Ezio called. Desmond took the Apple from the key hole and looked. Indeed there was now a door there.

“Catch,” he called down and dropped the Apple, Hawk caught it.

“Desmond don’t do what I think you’re about-

Desmond swung himself on the narrow holds at the opening. His fingers scrambled for purchase on the floor surface of the floor but he managed to get it. He was now, however, hanging from his hands from the bottom of the opening. “And he did,” he heard Altair groan.

“Its cool,” Desmond said and scrambled up and into the opening. He crouched just inside, catching his breath, his arms hurt some from what he’d just done, but was otherwise okay. He reached out and touched a wall, the wall glowed brightly, almost hurting his eyes. “I’m in!” he called.

“Great, now how are we getting up there?”

Desmond turned back around and looked down, “We have any rope?” he asked.

“In the numia, maybe,” Hawk said.

“Go get it. I can help Ezio up first, and then we’ll be able to hold onto it while the rest of you come up,” he said.

“This is so stupid,” Hawk said.

“Go look for some rope,” Altair pushed Hawk towards the ground. Desmond looked away from them. Lucy and Jake were standing on the ground and looked to be talking to Andrew, Shaun, and Rebecca. He couldn’t hear what they were saying though.

“What’s it look like in there?” Ezio asked.

Desmond looked behind him, “Hallway, and I see some stairs,” he said.

“Fantastic,” he sighed.

“Where the hell is Hawk?” Altair grumbled.

They waited in silence, then Hawk came back with some plastic, black, rope he’d found in the numia. “So who first?” Hawk asked once Desmond had the rope and let it drop down.

“I will,” Altair said.

“But I should,” Ezio said, “I can pull everyone up.”

“I’m oldest.”

“What are you, five?”

“No, nine, nine hundred,” Altair said.

“ _Guys_ ,” Desmond groaned, “You’ll all get up here. But really, Ezio should come up first. He’s right, he’s the biggest and the strongest other than me. I can’t hold the rope by myself though.”

“Fine,” Altair didn’t like it but he’d suck it up.

“Crow!” Hawk called, “Blondie, up here,” he beckoned them as Ezio grabbed the rope.

“Got it?” Ezio called and tugged it.

“I got it,” Desmond set himself and grunted when Ezio put his weight on it. He slid a little on the slick floor before digging in. Ezio was up the rope in seconds and nearly ran into Desmond when the tension changed suddenly.

Desmond looked over the side, “Okay, who’s next?” he called. Jake and Lucy had arrived.

“Ladies first,” Hawk said, motioning to Lucy.

“This is by far one of the most harebrained things you idiots have done,” she informed them.

“Yes yes, go on,” and Lucy grabbed the rope. With Ezio to hold it with him there was no sliding, Lucy was also small and light. She climbed quickly and Desmond helped her over the edge. She passed them to give the others room, as the hallway wasn’t terribly big. Jake came up next, he was slightly flustered from the climb as he went to join Lucy. Hawk went after Jake and like Ezio climbed the rope in seconds.

Desmond looked over the edge when Altair didn’t come immediately. “Coming?” he asked.

“These three won’t leave,” he said.

Desmond looked at the Assassins. Shaun looked up at him. “You owe us,” he said.

“Owe? We don’t owe you anything,” Altair said.

Shaun didn’t look at Altair, “Going to leave us out of the adventure this time too?” and Desmond, god damnit, felt _bad_. He knew it was better if they didn’t come, if they were ignorant, but it wouldn’t be happening.

“We can help,” Rebecca said. “If you’ll let us.”

Desmond frowned, “Desmond?” Altair’s question held many. Did Desmond trust them? Did Desmond want them? Looking down at them Desmond saw them for what they were. They weren’t Assassins, they were the _fight_ that remained in humanity in an enslaved world. He was alive, and was trying so fucking hard, so that people like them had a chance against the proeathans, so that _humans_ had a chance. Right now there were only two humans in this group to save the world, and only one was home grown. The others were cynical, jaded: immortal. They could use a little more humanity in this situation where a bunch of immortals, who had little concern for the lives they lost, didn’t have as much.

“They can come,” he said.

“Are you kidding-

“Search them,” he said with purpose. “No weapons. If they want us to trust them, they need to earn the trust, because I’m looking at them right now, and in my eyes they aren’t on our side. Not yet.”

“Fuckin-“ and then Altair grumbled in Arabic. He searched Rebecca quickly, Shaun and bit more thoroughly, and then Andrew the longest. He produced a knife from Andrew’s boot, and a but from an armpit holster. Altair took the knife and the gun. “Mortals first,” he growled and only Shaun didn’t look confused.

Rebecca climbed like a lemur, light and only on the rope a few moments. Shaun Desmond had to help a bit, but the Brit had gained some actual muscle since Desmond had seen him. They both had. They’d both been so soft the last time Desmond had seen them, looking into monitors all day, sitting and working, not being as active as they could be, as Desmond was used to. When Desmond grabbed Shaun’s arm to drag him to his feet he felt muscle under his shirt.

“Thanks,” Shaun said when he was in the hallway.

“For what?” Desmond asked.

“Trusting us this time,” and he moved on to join the others closer to the stairwell.

Andrew needed to be partially pulled up. Desmond pulled the rope before Ezio grabbed his father by the collar and yanked him up over the edge. Desmond said nothing to him. 

They were about to lower the rope again when a form flashed across the hole and Desmond watched Altair do the exact same thing he had done. Climbed the tower via the hand holds, and then jump to the hallway. Only he’d climbed a bit higher to try and land on his feet. He almost made it and landed on his toes.

Ezio grabbed Altair by the front of his shirt and Desmond and Hawk were quick to grab his hands. For a second Altair was leaning outside of the tower and then they pulled Altair safely inside. Once Altair was inside the door abruptly shut, and everything was dark.

“Perfect,” Jake’s sarcastic voice said in the darkness.


	55. Vitellus

“Give us some light Des,” Ezio said.

“What am I? The human flash light?” but Desmond did put his hand on the wall. Light blossomed around them, bathing everyone in a teal light. He saw the questions on the Assassin’s faces, but they didn’t ask. Good idea, none of them were going to answer their questions.

“So I guess we go down then,” Lucy said, she was standing at the top of the stairs. “It doesn’t go up.”

The stairs went down and down and down, following the curve of the tower and were wide enough for several of them to walk abreast. Desmond kept his hand on the wall, and light bloomed in front of an behind him a few feet from the wall, so everyone could see. It felt like they walked forever but eventually they did come to the bottom. Upon exiting the stair well they found themselves in a _huge_ room. It was the width of the tower and absurdly tall, long lines of glowing teal light rising up the sides and into darkness above.

“Bloody hell,” Desmond heard Shaun say in awe as everyone did the same thing and looked up.

Desmond focused first, “Mercury,” he called.

“You don’t have to yell,” they all spun at the sound of a new voice behind them. Standing there was… a child. He couldn’t be more then ten, if that and wore something like a toga. He wore a cap with wings and no shoes, standing on the floor, his blonde hair erratic under his cap.

“…Are you… Mercury?” Desmond asked.

“No, I’m Jupiter; _yes_ I’m Mercury, who else would I be?” they asked and hopped over to him. He clearly had written the book on angry sarcasm because he didn’t seem to have any other tone.

“Sorry. It’s just… you’re a kid?”

“Yeah so? I’m not real, I can look however I damn want. Not like you give Venus any trouble, and she _never_ looks like her self anyway.”

“Uh… okay,” Desmond said as the hologram came to stand in front of him. Then he took off from the ground to float in order to look Desmond in the eye.

“You’re not really much to look at,” he informed Desmond.

“Says the highly advanced A.I. in the form of a bratty child,” Desmond said without apologies.

Mercury was silent for a moment, then he laughed, “No wonder Pluto likes you,” he said and then went back down to the floor, for once not sounding angry. “Welcome to the CCK1,” and he waved his hands, all the lights in the building went up showing that the tower was hollow all the way through and they could see all the way to the top. “Now, come here, I need you,” and he beckoned Desmond before what looked like a control station rose up from the floor. Mercury ran over to it and jumped onto the panel, waving Desmond over urgently. Desmond went sort of knowing what was needed.

“What do you need me for?” he asked.

“This. This. I’m only at half power right now,” and he pointed to a blank, black, glass screen.

“I just touch it?”

“Wow you figured it out all on your own. Yes touch it, stupid.”

“What’ll happen?”

“I become fully fucking operational and we can do this properly without all this extra running around horse shit.”

“You have a really bad mouth,” Desmond said.

“Screw you, just touch the panel. There’ll be a prick, it needs some blood.”

Desmond sighed, of course it needed his blood. He put his hand on the glass. The panel flared up white and then teal, where his hand was still white light. Like warned there was a prick as the machine took his blood and his handprint turned red instead of white.

“Okay?” Desmond asked.

“Perfect!” Mercury said and shimmered before vanishing, the control panel sinking back into the floor as Desmond stepped back and away from it.

“… What the hell just happened?” Ezio asked.

“No idea,” Desmond said truthfully.

“Just give me a damn second will you? It’s been like a hundred thousand years since I did this,” Mercury’s voice rang out into the air. They waited.

“Mercury’s interesting,” Lucy said.

“Yeah, _real_ interesting,” Jake groused.

“See what I meant,” Desmond said, “You guys are _way_ out of your depth,” he told the Assassins who were all staring around in absolute awe and complete confusion.

“Hold on to something,” Mercury said.

“Like wha-T!” Ezio yelped and then suddenly the ground _moved_. It turned and then suddenly they were going _up_ at a pretty serious speed, faster than most elevators. Those who didn’t brace themselves fell, including Desmond.

The floor stopped moving near the top of the tower. Jake yelped when something started pushing out from the floor. Then more things started to emerge from the floor. A large table appeared with two dozen seats and so did walls and other pieces of furniture. The new walls looked like they had some sort of wall paper on them but when Desmond touched them they flickered and turned black.

“Stop touching things Desmond. You make everything screw up,” he jerked his hand back when Mercury spoke.

“You’re not very nice,” he said.

“Does it sound like I care what a little human baby thinks?” and then the walls showed a a video of an infant’s struggling to crawl. Jake laughed.

“Shut up,” Desmond bitched and pressed his hand pointedly on the wall. The video flickered and turned black again briefly before once more looking like funeral home wallpaper.

Mercury appeared on the big table, standing on it proudly, “Now, everyone sit,” he ordered. They all found a seat. Desmond sat close to the end of the table, Lucy sat next to him and Altair sat on his other side. Jake sat across from him with Ezio and Hawk flanking him. The Assassins sat a seat away from Ezio, they themselves in a row.

 “Good, now,” he was silent for a second. “Everyone’s here. Okay. Good, fucking _finally_ ,” and Desmond was glad he was sitting now as six other holograms suddenly appeared around the table. He recognized several of them; Morpheus, Pluto, Hera. Though there were three he didn’t. One was a older woman with black hair and wore a long, flowing, dress, and looked positively stately, though she wore no headdress, or shoes. The other was a younger girl, like in her teens, wearing a helmet of some kind and tight fitting clothes, also bare foot. The last was a _huge_ woman, she had wide hips and a large stomach and large breasts, but delicate features and small hands, she wore a hood that hid most of her face like a helmet and her clothes resembled Pluto’s; militant. “Hello brothers, sisters,” Mercury said with a smile.

“Mercury stop that,” Morpheus said in his very deep voice, patiently.

“Screw you,” Mercury said.

“Mercury,” Hera said.

“… Right, sorry ma’am,” Mercury said, cowed. “But, it’s done,” he said cheerfully.

“Yes. Very good,” Pluto said, looking around at them all.

“There are those who aren’t supposed to be here,” Morpheus said in his deep echoey voice. At once the rest of the holograms ceased their chatter amid themselves, like talking at a family reunion, and all turned and stared at the Assassins. Desmond tried his best not to look pleased about how uncomfortable they looked, and especially his father.

“What are they doing here?” Pluto asked. “Bad enough you bring a synth and four tainted, now humans. What is this?” he looked at Desmond sternly.

“New guys, friends, and my dad,” Desmond said.

“Father?” Pluto said, interested and confused at the same time. Morpheus was now looming over Andrew who stared in his chair and leaned away.

Morpheus reached out and ‘touched’ Andrew on the forehead and then drew away a 3D holographic representation of him. “How interesting,” he said, “Demeter?” and like it was nothing he pushed the hologram of Andrew to the statuesque woman.

Desmond didn’t know what she did but he did start when suddenly the obscenely large woman sat on the table between him and Lucy. She seemed to be looking at Lucy under her helm, then she turned to Desmond. “No wonder you hated I looked like her. I do her no justice,” she said.

“Venus?” he asked, staring.

“I am,” she said and it was the first time he’d ever seen her not in the guise of Lucy or Sarah.

“…Uh-

“What?” and then her appearance flickered to Lucy again, wearing a _very_ tight shirt and Desmond turned bright red. “Like this better?”

“No!” he said hotly. Next to him Lucy laughed.

“Not interesting at all,” Desmond heard Demeter say and Desmond looked at her to take his attention off Venus as she flickered back to her true appearance. “He gets it all but one from his mother,” she declared and trashed the hologram.

“Who though?” Mercury asked.

“Unimportant,” she said it in a very finalizing way and just like that no one was interested in Andrew in the slightest, or the other two.

“Okay… that was weird,” Jake said.

“Someone want to clue us into what’s going on?” Andrew asked.

“You wanted to come in at the middle,” Desmond said, “So you’re going to have to figure it out as you go till we get to the end. Same as the rest of us.”

“But-

“You’re not a part of this. Shut it,” Desmond said. “So,” he looked at the holograms, “I’m guessing this was part of the plan?”

“Very,” Venus said. “Mercury is a communications expert-

“Could have fooled me,” Ezio grumbled.

Venus didn’t even notice him speaking, “He was given the task, upon our awakening, to bring us all together so that together we could fully power up.”

“Even you?” Hawk asked, “You’re just a box.”

The holograms laughed, “Venus is a Vault,” Artemis said primly. “A vast, impregnable store house you have only touched the surface of. She is an armory, without weapons.”

“That… means?” Altair asked for elaboration.

Venus waved her hand, “This is what you see,” and the Vault appeared in midair above them, “That is my retrieval unit. This is the rest of what I maintain,” and a _huge_ complex appeared under the box, one that looked hundreds of yards across.

“Oh my,” Hawk breathed.

“Our weapons were left with Artemis and Mars to maintain. I was left with most of our other technology, for when we awoke again. What is in the above ground vault is simply what I have had on stock since the Cataclysm, under normal operations it fills the room you found me in and from it any item required can be transported to for easy retrieval. I have been running at the minimalist capacity possible for a very long time, enough to keep everything safe, but little else. We all have,” she waved at the other A.I.s.

“And the bad ones too?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Your clone did not work as they expected, and neither did their plan B,” Venus looked at Lucy who looked incredibly embarrassed. “And C, and D,” she added thoughtfully.

“Cain isn’t dead yet,” Altair said.

“No,” Morpheus agreed, “But I’m sure you know; he doesn’t like being kept.”

“No he doesn’t,” Altair said.

“We have know this. We have a plan.”

“Like what? What could you _possibly_ offer Cain?” Altair scoffed. “He doesn’t want money, fame, glory.”

“They have something he wants. We said we’d give it to him.”

“Which was?”

“You let us worry about that.”

“And Daniel?” Lucy asked in a soft voice, “Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean the proeathans won’t just bring him back. Like they did me,” she squeezed her knees hard.

“We aren’t sure on his condition,” Pluto admitted. “The last I heard he was in Russia, with Saturn,” he frowned, “we did not get along well even before he found about my changed allegiance.”

“Okay,” Desmond said. “So you’re all here, now what?”

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

He sighed, “Of course. When are you guys _not_ waiting for me? Waiting for me to wake you up, save the world, now show up here,” he sat back low in the sear. “What do I have to do now?”

“Just one thing,” Pluto said.

“Great. Lay it on me,” he said, opening his arms, slightly sarcastic.

“Trust us,” Mercury said and then suddenly Desmond’s chair vanished and the floor opened up. Desmond was falling. He heard someone yell his name and as he looked up, before the ceiling closed around him he saw Lucy and Altair’s faces, Altair looking ready to dive after him. But then the ceiling sealed and Desmond was falling. 

It was entirely black and empty inside the tower. Desmond panicked as he fell, wind grabbing at his clothes as his limbs waved in the air, face down. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die _now_.  He actually had something to live for now. What had they said? Trust. Right. Trust! What was trust? Why should he? They were going to kill him! No. No they weren’t. They wouldn’t. They _needed_ _him_. Without him eventually they’d all be taken over again. They needed him alive, and able, and they needed him to trust them. What was trust?

Trust was an act of faith.

He’d taken plenty of leaps of faith in his life.

Desmond relaxed, his body positioned itself on his own so he was on his back, arms on either side of him, like he was crucified in the darkness. He closed his eyes and breathed out calmly. The darkness swept over him. He was in the darkness and the darkness was in him and he was right back where he started, a darkness’ embrace where he was nothing, and it didn’t matter who or what he was. He embraced it and welcomed it because it was familiar, because it was a comfort.

He fell.

-fin-


End file.
